


Untamed

by sven co-op (sven_coop)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And maybe some graphic violence, As Fuck, Don't worry I'm an animation major, Illustrated, Keith and Shiro are Werelions, M/M, No Voltron, Rating is mostly for extreme use of language at times, Slow Burn, They have powers based off their canon Lions' elements, Werelion AU, Werelions, alien magic, at least one illustration per chapter, by yours truly, cause it's cool, pidge masquerading as a boy again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-04-16 04:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 63,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14156505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sven_coop/pseuds/sven%20co-op
Summary: One small mistake lands Lance on the wildest ride of his life. The angry guy he met in the desert? There's a lot more to him than it looks.





	1. Hotspot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance sneaks away from the Garrison at night to retrieve something important he lost. Things turn sour very fast when the Galra show up.

 

“How do you even _forget_ a ventral graviton oscillator as casually as you did?”

“You know what, Pidge?” Lance replied sourly, frowning at the younger boy from across the room as he pulled on his shoes. “Your snark is not appreciated right now, so you’re welcome to go shove it.”

“It’s the size of a large cat,” Pidge said, approximating the size with his hands. He was lounging in a wheeled chair by Hunk’s desk with his feet resting on top of the surface, half-paying attention to the feeds displayed on his laptop. “And don’t you need it? You’d think that’d raise it up a few levels on the priority list for things to remember.”

“Yeah, I _do_ need it. That’s why I’m going to get it now. I have an exam next Monday for MMR 101 and I am _not_ going to fail it because I left the stupid thing in a bush or something.”

“That’s what you get for wandering off to some oasis on a school day,” Pidge replied dryly.

“Have you seen this place? The outside’s nothing but rock and sand and brown. All I wanted was a change of scenery and a nice quiet place so I could continue to put off studying for this exam. I just happened to forget that I had classes.”

“Lance, it’s the middle of the week.”

“Yeah well this morning I honestly thought it was Sunday.”

“Do you really need to go tonight?” Hunk asked anxiously, watching his friend prepare for the road. “Why can’t you wait until tomorrow after classes?”

“Cause I put off studying for the exam,” Lance repeated with a shrug, shoving his arm into the sleeve of his jacket. “So, I have a weekend to memorize the entire anatomy of a VGO.”

“You didn’t do any of the assigned readings all semester, did you?”

“Nope,” Lance answered cheerfully. “So, when I get back, I’m going to need _you_ to explain to me, in excruciating detail, all the parts and how to clean and repair them.”

“Oh boy,” Hunk sighed.

“Sorry to put you through this, buddy, but I need your expertise.” Lance paced around the room, grabbing items and devices he’d need while traveling. “Why does a fighter class pilot need to take Manual Mechanic Rehabilitation anyway? I fly and shoot things, I don’t fix things.”

“For the day you stupidly, and inevitably, crash your bird—and you just so happen to _not_ have your engineer on hand—and your VGO is shot. You’re on a desert island, so you can either put what you learned in MMR to use or you can contemplate eating your own foot to survive,” Pidge replied.

“Oh, nice. Another desert. Why is your example so specific?”

“Please don’t go, Lance,” Hunk pleaded, placing his hand on Lance’s shoulder to slow him. “We’re not supposed to be outside the Garrison at night, and it’s dangerous.”

“Well, you can thank Pidge for making my mind up for me,” Lance said, jabbing a thumb in Pidge’s direction, who returned the middle finger in response. “If I don’t pass this test I’m gonna have to eat my foot. Don’t worry, buddy,” Lance grinned confidently while giving the larger boy’s arm a quick pat, “I’ll be back in three hours. And I’ll have my gun with me the whole time.”

“Maybe one of us should go with you,” Hunk offered. Pidge scoffed.

“If you think my butt’s vacating this chair any time soon, you couldn’t be more wrong,” Pidge responded, eyes now stubbornly glued to his laptop screen.

“Oh, like you aren’t the master of sneaking out at night,” Lance countered, tossing his blaster rifle over his shoulder and securing its strap around his torso. “I’m actually surprised you’re lying low tonight. No good Galra gossip lately?”

“Hey, screw off, McClain. You can act smug all you want, but if the Galra do decide to visit Earth, I’m gonna know it ahead of time, including all their plans.”

Lance dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he moved towards the door. “You’re just a paranoid alien fanatic. The Galra aren’t going to bother us. There’s nothing here to interest them.”

“What about that shuttle to Kerberos a year back that got abducted?” Pidge replied, eyes now back on Lance. “They seemed pretty interested then.”

“It was never proven to be the Galra,” Lance countered.

“Oh, right. Let me recall the Garrison’s official confirmation regarding the shuttle disappearing. What is, ‘pilot error?’ Just like the first Kerberos shuttle years ago?”

 “That shuttle is still classified as MIA, and— Okay, you know what, I don’t have time for this. I’m getting my VGO.”

“Lance—” Hunk began.

“No, Hunk, I don’t want you coming with me,” Lance said sternly, pushing Hunk away from the door. “It’ll be much easier sneaking out by myself, and I know exactly where I left it. It won’t take me very long.”

“Alright, man, but I don’t like this,” Hunk muttered unhappily. “What if something happens to you?”

“Gun,” was Lance’s simple reply, gesturing to the rifle strapped on his back with a grin as he hit the door release and exited the room, the door shutting behind him with a hiss. Hunk stood where he was, half considering dragging Lance back into the room, but he remained still. He turned and caught Pidge’s eye, who was staring back mildly.

“That wasn’t even an answer to my question,” Hunk mumbled miserably.

 

* * *

 

 

The Garrison students called it the Hotspot. It was an isolated oasis sitting out in the middle of the desert, completely undisturbed by any outside forces. It was surprisingly big and sported plenty of green, in addition to a considerable watering hole that cut through the middle of it. It was a popular place for students to disappear to on their off-days, for lack of any better leisure spots nearby. They were stuck in a barren desert, after all.

And for Lance, it was a place to disappear to regardless of if it was convenient for him or not. The place was blissfully quiet when the school day was on, and he could relax in the shade for as long as he liked before the silence drove him insane and he craved human contact again. That day just happened to be one of those days, and unfortunately for him, bringing his VGO in what he had known would be a false promise to study turned out to be a bad idea.

The ride to the oasis wasn’t rough, but it was boring. He knew the route by heart at that point, and he was always greeted with the same scenery: brown rocks and red sand. The night sky did little but dull the colors around him further, but at least he had the pleasure of viewing an open sky full of twinkling stars that had him looking up more than he looked at the ground ahead.

Growing up, he had been graced with a family van with a sunroof, and he had spent many traveling nights in the backseat lying on his back and staring up at the expanse of space. The Garrison buggies were even better, having a full range of glass covering the vehicle’s cabin that allowed viewing from many more angles. He couldn’t enjoy night rides like that often—the Garrison had strict rules on curfew and were good about locking down their garages at night. Unfortunately for them, Pidge Gunderson existed, and Lance was personal friends with him. And thus, unlimited access to the garages was his, and there he was.

A solid amount of time passed before the rocky cliffs began opening, soon revealing the busy oasis that was nested within at their bases. It was unnaturally huge; it ran the entire length of the canyon and was so dense you’d forget you were in a desert standing in it. The long body of water that sat in the middle could almost be called a river, except it had no source aside from itself, and no current. It was truly a wonder of nature.

And unfortunately lacked any landmarks within itself, as most of it looked the same from both the outside and the inside. Not to mention the darkness of the night. Finding his VGO wasn’t going to be easy.

Lance eased the buggy down a tame incline before parking it just outside the edge of the trees. He climbed out of the vehicle and resealed the cabin, not bothering to lock it considering the oasis’ vacancy that naturally came with the dead of night. The desert’s night air chilled him, and he zipped up his jacket to keep it at bay. His eyes ghosted over the trees for only a moment before they were effortlessly lured to the twinkling black expanse above, the stars brilliantly shining over the open land, free of any light pollution. He briefly considered dragging Hunk and Pidge out there one night just for stargazing—no eavesdropping on aliens, no hunting for cute girls, just three friends contemplating life under the stars. The thought made him smile to himself.

Yeah, he’d have to do that sometime.

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and willed himself to focus. No time to waste; he’d be exhausted by the time he returned, no doubt, and he was already looking forward to a rough morning tomorrow (assuming it wasn’t already tomorrow). He shifted his gaze over the trees and bushes, narrowing his eyes as if he could locate the VGO if he stared hard enough at the tree line. With a deep inhale, he squared his shoulders and marched into the oasis.

The place was absolutely stunning during the day. The green was a refreshing sight against the brown rocks, the sun sparkled off the water’s surface, and there was so much shade to escape the hot desert sun. But during the night, it was . . . eerie. Unsettling, like walking through a silent forest at night. The feeling of being watched lingered in the back of his mind.

The density of the foliage made it difficult to see, the shadows of the trees only adding to the darkness on the oasis’ floor. Lance was forced to pick his way through the bushes carefully so as not to accidentally trip over anything. Except his VGO—he’d be thrilled if he tripped over his VGO at that point. The soft chirps of insects hidden from his view sounded through the air, occasionally pulling his attention as he glanced around nervously.

He was being ridiculous. There was nothing spooky about the oasis at night, he knew. It was just darker than during the day; it wasn’t going to be suddenly haunted or something just because the sun went down. The rational side of his mind warred with the irrational side, and somehow, he still couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling. The dark always made things creepier, no matter the setting, and he accepted that he couldn’t help that fact. He straightened just a little and anxiously shifted his rifle on his shoulder before carrying on a little faster, hoping to grab his VGO soon and scram before his imaginary monster ate him.

Lance trudged through the bushes for a little longer before heading into the clearing and walking along the edge of the water, dazzled with the sky’s reflection on the oasis’ pristine surface. He idly kicked rocks around as he searched, looking behind boulders and under trees where he might have lounged earlier that day with the hope that he simply forgot it rather than it having dropped from his bag at some point.

As soon as he pushed his way back into the trees, he tripped over something solid. He stumbled but managed to catch himself before he ate a healthy helping of sand, then uttered a string of nasty words under his breath as he turned around and planned to send the offender to space with his foot.

He was greeted with the luster surface of his VGO, sitting soundly on the ground just beneath a bush. With a delighted gasp, Lance dropped to his knees and picked up the object, turning it over and eagerly inspecting it to ensure it wasn’t damaged.

To be honest, he had no idea what to look for, but it didn’t look too different than when he last had it, so he assumed it was fine. Lance shot to his feet and belted out a victorious whoop to the night sky, pumping his fist towards the stars.

And then light exploded across the sky as a thunderous blast shook the air.

Lance dropped immediately, his heart in his throat as his surroundings were drenched in light from above, and he looked just in time to see the burn trails of a large craft descending into the cliffs nearby. He followed the light with wide eyes, watching as the trails withered, then jumped when the ground shook beneath his feet.

“What the _fuck—?”_ he breathed shakily as he was left in darkness once more. He was trembling from the adrenaline spike, his hand to his chest to feel his pounding heart beneath while his mind raced. That couldn’t have been a Garrison craft; they didn’t run flights during the night, not even for missions. Someone else, maybe? But who had the nerve to fly in Garrison air space?

Lights beamed from beyond the cliff, visible against the black sky. Lance squinted at them as their owners peaked over the cliff’s edge, numerous tiny shadows aiming lights down on the oasis. One beam traveled near his location and he ducked back down beneath the bushes, breathing erratically as it shined on the leaves and the grass. And then it passed harmlessly.

He should leave. He didn’t know what was happening but it was none of his business. The buggy was in the opposite direction—he’d make it no problem and be out like a shot. He’d take his VGO back to the Garrison, kick Pidge out and beg Hunk to help him study, turn in for the night, and forget any of it ever happened.

But naturally, his curiosity was too great for him. Whatever was happening seemed serious, and he was beyond intrigued. He peeked around the bush again, easily locating the roaming shadow figures with their lights, and pulled on the strap of his rifle. It fell into his arm with grace and he had it up to his eye in an instant, aiming his sights at the figures and focusing on the ones most illuminated by the flashlights.

The lights they were holding were mounted on guns. The figures holding them looked like they were heavily armored, sharply gleaming every time light caught their bodies. Their heads—or helmets—sported visors, glowing a menacing pink against the dark air. They descended as a unit into the oasis, and as they neared, Lance was able to make out an insignia on one of the bodies.

Galra sentries. His breath caught in his throat at the realization.

What could the Galra possibly be doing on Earth? And in the Garrison’s desert of all places? Pidge couldn’t have picked a worse night to skip out on intercepting Galra feeds.

His mind was instantly made up. Time to go. Whatever they were looking for was beyond his level. With a shuddering breath, Lance adjusted his VGO in his grip and began slowly making his way backwards through the brush, his eyes locked on the sentries all the while. The first few finally made their way into the trees, and light beams poured through the foliage as they scanned the area. But they were across the watering hole, so he had little to worry from them.

He backed into a tree and quickly adjusted himself before resuming. His eyes flicked once behind him and he froze.

Lights were dancing behind him just as they were ahead of him. How had they gotten behind him?! He only recalled seeing the first several up on the cliff. Maybe they had circled around while he had been busy spying on the others. His heart hammered in his throat.

He was cut off. Lance knew he had to get around them to get back to his buggy, and he prayed none of them would notice it. Or, at least, pay no attention to it. He began circling around, doing his best to keep as much distance as possible between him and the lights, staying low to the ground as he slowly picked his way through the oasis. A light beam scanned just over his head and he stopped breathing, freezing until it had fallen away.

The sentries were getting closer, but he was making progress. He was away from most of them, only really avoiding a couple nearby. He crept along at a snail’s pace, his gun cradled in his arm and his VGO in the other, his eyes locked on the source of light closest to him. The sentries were impossible to see in the trees, but their flashlights gave away their position well enough.

And he was so focused on the one in front of him that he didn’t notice the one behind him. A series of radio chatter suddenly broke the air and Lance fell on his belly with a sharp inhale, blood pounding in his ears as he flattened out in the sand, praying to God that the sentry didn’t notice him.

Heavy footsteps neared where he lay, slow and rhythmic in their pace. He assumed the lack of urgency was a good sign. He didn’t move a muscle as the sentry just barely brushed past him, light trained ahead of it in a horizontal position. His breath, though tightly controlled, was like thunder in his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut until the sentry had passed without incident. The radio chatter went off again, but it sounded a little further away.

 _“Area cleared. Proceeding,”_ rang the sentry’s machine voice, followed by receding footsteps. Lance exhaled heavily, his breath kicking up sand in his face, and he quickly brushed it away with his hand before rising to his feet and hurrying forward.

Until he tripped on a rock. His toes slammed into the solid surface, his shoes providing little protection from the impact, and pain shot up his leg as he was thrown forward and into the sand. The crushing sound of his body hitting the ground was unavoidable, the sound of his VGO even worse, and he released a strained grunt as the severity of his toe’s pain hit him fully. He curled his leg up to his chest as he held it, gasping in agony as his foot throbbed, lying uncomfortably on the body of his rifle with his VGO sitting nearby.

And then a light shined on him. His heart stopped as he stared down the barrel of an alien gun.

 _“Do not move,”_ the voice sounded, but Lance was already moving. His throbbing toes already forgotten, he rolled over to his knees while grabbing his rifle and brought it around in a flash. He shot the sentry dead in the visor, the sound shattering the night sky as the sentry’s head exploded in a shower of sparks. Its body twitched before it collapsed under its own weight.

Lance didn’t even grab the VGO this time. He shot to his feet and took off as lights from all directions bore down on him, a series of robotic voices sounding from all over the oasis. A laser blasted a tree next to him and he jumped with a terrified yelp, barely registering the burn as a rogue shard of bark sliced across his cheek. His hand subconsciously covered the injury as he lowered himself while sprinting to try and avoid the guns now firing at him and lighting up the night.

He wanted to scream but he had no air left in his lungs for it. Never in his entire life did he ever imagine himself in this situation—it was straight out of a sci-fi movie. He was scared out of his mind and in pain from his foot and gasping for air as he ran with everything he had to get away from the alien robots trying to kill him. The oasis suddenly seemed a lot bigger and a lot smaller all at once.

A sentry popped out of the trees in front of him and he struggled to slow down as it raised its gun. The faces of his entire family flashed through his mind. Hunk and Pidge flashed through his mind. His stomach dropped with the realization that there was no getting out of this. He was certain he was going to die alone in the desert, surrounded by murderous machines.

He cried out in shock when the sentry was suddenly engulfed in a wave of fire. The heat slammed against Lance and burned his skin, causing him to stagger back so fast he lost his footing. He fell on his back with his arms over his face to shield himself from the blistering heat and the searing light of the fire.

He managed to peer through his arms, squinting against the brightness, and he was unable to locate the sentry anywhere. All that was before him was a wall of fire that cut a path through the trees, crackling and smoking against the green plants and burning everything. He briefly wondered where it could have possibly come from. The sentries had all ceased firing on him and seemed to be in a frenzy, so it probably wasn’t them.

A thunderous roar split the night air, and Lance whipped his head towards the noise just in time to see another sentry come hurtling through the air in his direction. He watched it land several yards away, its metallic shell gleaming from the nearby flames, followed by a ball of fire that exploded over it a few seconds later.

Lance scrambled away from the charred sentry in a panic, being sure to grab his rifle on the way. He jumped to his feet and began running, flinching when the sentries all began shouting in their warbled voices and shooting again. He realized, after a moment, that they weren’t firing at him.

Another roar tore through the night but Lance didn’t stop to see what it was. He barreled through the trees past the distracted sentries, bringing his rifle up and slamming the butt of it against the helmet of one in his path as he went. It staggered away and he kept running. Another roar, much louder and much closer, and he turned in time to see the massive form of something terrifying rip the sentry in two. His blood turned to ice and he ran faster.

Everything was in chaos around him. The sentries were firing wildly, the sounds of blasters mixed with the sounds of sentries being torn to pieces, fire igniting, and furious roaring. A sentry on the cliff to his side exploded as a ball of fire smashed into it. It was so difficult to see where he was running with all the flashing lights and the mess of noises. Trees whipped past him, bushes threatened to trip him up, his lungs were completely empty and he was struggling to breathe but he had to keep going—

A lone sentry finally turned its gun on him once he had run into its full view. He stopped in his tracks, unable to breathe from how hard he had been running and choking on air he couldn’t seem to find. He doubled over, a hand on his chest as he fought for breath, staring desperately at the sentry aiming at him, waiting for the shot to come.

The bushes exploded as the giant thing burst through them and grabbed the sentry, light exploding in front of Lance and again forcing him to cover his eyes from the intensity of it. He lost his balance and collapsed on his side, wheezing and gasping and clutching at his stomach, rifle lying forgotten next to him.

A heavy crash caught his attention and he looked up from his arm. The mangled corpse of the sentry lay smoking next to him, parts of its shell red-hot and melted. A pair of feet was also standing next to him. At least, he thought they were feet. They were massive, standing on the balls and toes exclusively and each sporting deadly sets of claws. They looked hairy. Lance slowly looked up, his eyes traveling over the rippling muscles in the legs with fear and awe, continuing until he was looking almost straight up at the sky. A pair of yellow, blazing eyes stared back at him, set into a face that he couldn’t make out the features of against the night.

But he could make out the teeth. The rows of giant fangs glinting in the light. Lance trembled as a low, rumbling growl filled the air, his veins filling with ice. His muscles felt frozen. His lungs were still on fire. He felt dizzy and light-headed and he swayed under the monster’s piercing gaze.

A laser pelted into the thing’s shoulder, pulling a monstrous roar from it as it twisted around and lunged at the attacker without hesitation. Lance fell onto his back, staring up at the stars in the night sky as exhaustion dragged him down like a cinder block, lasers still flying all around him.

He finally managed a heaping gulp of air before passing out.


	2. Hotshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance meets a new friend with a bit of an explosive temper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh did i say the images might not be well-rendered oops my bad i meant that the lines are shit cause i hate lineart so i'm pretty much just coloring rough sketches. mostly just trying to get a feeling of atmosphere in the images but yeah sorry for the lines; at the very least you should be able to see what's going on in the faces and that's the important part. i also apologize in advance i am much better at drawing huge lion men than i am drawing actual people and that might be pretty evident eventually.
> 
> two images this chapter let's go boys

The first thing Lance became aware of was the light burning a hole through his eyelids. And then the pain returned.

He moaned miserably as his toes began screaming his name, his leg curling closer to his body and his hands blindly reaching for the injured foot. Touching it didn’t help at all, leaving him cradling the injury uselessly and complaining with a tangled tongue. His cheek itched and he scratched at it without thinking, displeased with the resulting sting as his nails disturbed the scabbing cut on his skin.

He was lying on something soft, but he knew it wasn’t his Garrison bed because it was too soft and sort of dipping inwards in the middle. He didn’t remember lying down on a bed the night previous. He couldn’t remember much of anything, actually. His head felt hazy.

He rolled over and pressed his face into the mattress to try and blot out the light, and his nose filled with an unpleasant smell that he could only describe as dirty wet dog. And smoke. Something smelled smoky. He pulled out of the foul-smelling mattress only for the smell of smoke to linger.

He remembered fire. And a pair of burning eyes.

Lance’s eyes shot open as memories of the previous night flooded his mind before scrambling to a sitting position, the light searing his retinas and causing him to flinch and cover his eyes until they adjusted. A thin blanket fell off him, the fabric rough and matted beneath his fingers as he felt for it. Definitely not his Garrison bed. He slowly pulled his arm away from his face, blinking rapidly to try and ease his eyes open against the light, then took in his surroundings as they came into focus.

He was in a small room. It was messy and dusty and smelled stale. And smoke. There was still that smoky smell. The walls were made of wood that was beginning to peel apart, the floor boards uneven and warped, the ceiling sporting a few cracks. A dirty window allowed sunlight to filter in, completely bare of any curtains or blinds. Pieces of broken furniture, empty cans, and old ripped clothes were scattered across the dusty floor. A door, barely hanging on its hinges, sat in the wall opposite him and hung slightly open to reveal a hint of another room.

Lance didn’t recognize the place. He glanced down at the mattress he was sitting on—only to discover it wasn’t a bed but actually an old couch. It had a single, grayed sheet laid over it and was dulled from time and use, its surface riddled with holes. There was definitely a dip in the middle. The pillow he had been lying on was in a similar state as the sheet; dirty and gray. The blanket Lance’s hand rested on was little more than a giant rag, ripped and matted and just as filthy as the rest of the place.

Lance was quick to evacuate the couch, shuddering with the knowledge that he had slept on it the night previous. Apparently. How had he gotten there? Never in his right mind would he have subjected himself to sleeping on such a disgusting thing. Just thinking about it made him want to shower and scrub his skin off.

And that was exactly what he was going to do once he got back to the Garrison.

Oh shit.

It was morning. He had classes. He had to study.

Did he leave his VGO again?

Lance shook his head. All of that was unimportant at the moment. He had to figure out where he was first. A quick glance out the window told him he was still in the desert. Hopefully he wasn’t far from the oasis. Also, hopefully the Galra were gone, otherwise he was stuck because there was no way he was chancing another encounter with them again. He was lucky he got away the first time.

How had he gotten away? He didn’t remember.

Lance crept cautiously towards the door, careful to keep his footsteps soft against the warped wood floor. Naturally, it creaked beneath his weight, and he rolled his eyes before giving up and walking the rest of the way like normal. He grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open, his eyes roaming over the space beyond; It was just as messy as the bedroom, but it was a little larger and had more intact furniture. Everything was worn and dulled with time and disuse.

The room held a foul stench, far worse than what the couch had smelled like. The air was ripe with a rotten stink that made Lance’s nose crinkle in disgust and he recoiled behind the door with a gag. He was pretty certain something died in that room recently, and when he looked again, he was half-expecting to see a dead body that he’d missed before.

Lance almost instantly caught sight of his rifle, its polished surface a stark contrast to the drab interior of the room. It was sitting on a table across from him and Lance could see his phone next to it. And no dead body. He grinned eagerly.

Bingo. He quickly crossed the room and scooped up his rifle.

“About time.”

Lance froze, his fingers tightening on his gun. He whipped around with it at the ready, only to be greeted with the sight of some guy sitting across the room from him on a table behind the window, features partially hidden in shadow.

Lance blinked in surprise, and the boy gazed back mildly, apparently having little concern for the weapon in Lance’s grip. He was young—couldn’t have been any older than Lance was—and he was just as much of a mess as the rest of the house. His clothes were absolutely ruined; what was probably a proper shirt at one point now sagged off his shoulders, its form stretched several times his size and torn in various places. The sleeves had been ripped off at some point. His pants were little more than baggy rags shredded above his ankles and hanging low on his hips. They, too, were stretched to an extreme degree. And absolutely filthy. He wasn’t even wearing any shoes. His black hair, clumped and shining with grease, was a wild mess on his head and falling over his shoulders. Lance couldn’t resist cringing with disgust.

But his pale skin was, surprisingly, clear of any dirt or grime that Lance could see.

The boy blinked patiently. “You sleep like a rock, you know. It’s almost noon.”

Lance shook his head in silent astonishment, lost for words. He confusedly searched the room for any hints of who this guy was and what was going on, but he found nothing. He met the kid’s eyes again.

“Sorry, uh,” Lance stammered as he tried collecting his thoughts, “who are you?”

The boy slowly leaned back until he was propped against the wall, his eyes still on Lance. “The one who saved you from the Galra sentries.”

Lance didn’t remember anybody else in the oasis. Just the sentries, and that . . .

“Why were you messing around with the Galra, anyway? Do you have a death wish?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Lance barked, instantly jumping to his own defense. The boy raised his eyebrows and Lance took a breath, steadying himself. “Look, I left something at the oasis, and I went back to get it. The Galra just kind of swooped in and landed on me. I tried to sneak away but there were a lot of guys.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Lance frowned, confused. “Y-Yeah, I mean . . . there were Galra sentries. They were searching for something, I think. I don’t know what, I just got caught in the middle of it. I remember them shooting at me, then a lot of fire, then they weren’t shooting at me, and . . .”

“And?”

Lance shook his head. “And . . .” That monstrous thing entered his mind. He remembered it tearing a sentry apart. Melting another one into molten metal. Looming over him under the night sky and silhouetted against the fire surrounding them.

How could he explain that to this kid without sounding crazy? The impromptu alien invasion was one thing, but some phantom beast was another. “Um . . .” he said, stuck.

“Do you remember anything else—”

“I’m thinking, give me a sec,” Lance cut in with a huff. The boy was still staring at him intensely as he waited for an answer and Lance cracked under his gaze. He threw his hands out and said, “Okay, I remember something big. Like, a monster or something.”

“A monster.”

“Yeah, like, uh, I don’t know. Big teeth and claws. Hairy. Evil-looking. And _huge._ It ripped the sentries apart like paper.”

“Evil-looking,” the boy mumbled drily, then fell silent, his eyes falling as he considered Lance’s description. Lance tapped his pants anxiously with his fingers, hoping the boy would understand what he was saying and believe him. It’s not like it would make a difference at that point; the beast was long gone along with the Galra, and the boy apparently hadn’t seen it. But Lance knew what he had seen, and he wanted the validation to know he hadn’t been crazy. A monster had actually been in the oasis. The boy looked out the window, his continuous silence edging Lance further into nervousness.

Lance decided to break the silence with a change of subject. “So. You were out in the oasis too at some point,” he mentioned casually while bracing his rifle’s barrel on the floor and leaning on the body. “What were you doing? Not too many people go there at night.”

“No,” the boy muttered in response, “they don’t.” He turned towards Lance, a frown playing on his face. “I was watching you.”

Lance faltered. “What?” He remembered the suffocating darkness and the feeling of being watched. He had thought it was all in his head, but . . . apparently, his gut had been right. He shuddered from the memory.

“I was curious why you were at the oasis at night. I followed you and watched what you were doing. All the way up until you tripped over your machine. And then the Galra came.”

“Why were you following me? Am I that interesting? I mean, of course I am, but still, what the hell?”

“Do you know what they were looking for?” the boy asked, ignoring Lance. Lance blinked at the aversion but didn’t voice his objections. He shook his head.

“No, I don’t,” he admitted. “Couldn’t have been me, I promise.”

The boy leveled his gaze with Lance’s. “They were looking for me.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, disbelieving. “Why?” he asked with a frown.

“I have something they’re interested in. I guess they finally tracked me down. I’m sorry you got caught in the middle of it, I did everything I could to keep them off you.”

Lance shook his head, reeling. “Dude, no offense, but I don’t remember you at all.”

“You already said you remembered me.”

“No, I didn’t!” Lance protested. He had _not_ said he remembered him. Did he? No, he was pretty sure he hadn’t. He definitely didn’t remember the kid. “Look, I remember the sentries, and—and I remember fire, and I remember—”

“A giant evil monster?”

“Yes! But I don’t remember you.”

The boy suddenly jumped down from his spot on the table and brought his hands to his chest in a gesture to himself before saying, “Dude, I _am_ the giant monster.”

Lance looked the boy up and down once. The boy was shorter than him. Not by much, but. He was shorter. “Um. You’re gonna need to add about ten feet to convince me.”

The boy threw his arms out wildly in a display of aggravation, opening his mouth to fire back—but he seemed to think better of it. He closed his mouth and straightened, a calm expression crossing his face. Lance cocked an eyebrow at him.

The boy shrugged. “Fine.” And then almost too fast for Lance to register, the boy’s body disappeared in a mass of coarse fur and corded muscle that stacked several feet higher than Lance’s frazzled brain remembered. A deafening roar shattered his ears and he stumbled back with a terrified cry, dropping his rifle and landing on his back before scrambling backwards until he pressed against the wall, his arm out protectively as the monster’s rancid breath blasted his face.

He was able to open his eyes once the roar had finally ceased. He stared, trembling madly, up at the beast towering over him, its arms spread in a challenging stance and its fingers flexing, balanced on a pair of digitigrade legs that ended in strong, giant feet. Massive, black claws that were the size of Lance’s hand grew from the white pads of the fingers and toes, the lighter fur transitioning into the startling red of the body. Black hair sprouted from the top of its head in a healthy mohawk, lines of hair along the neck of the same color traveling down and disappearing into the shirt that was now stretched to its limit on the hulking body. A set of lethal fangs sat bared in the protruding muzzle below the wide nose, a pair of burning, pupil-less, yellow eyes set beneath a heavy brow. The monster's presence was assertive and commanding and made the room feel incredibly small (aside from the fact that it was way too big for the room to begin with). Lance couldn’t seem to find his breath.

The monster suddenly reared back and Lance flinched, but he relaxed just a little when he noticed the beast glance down at its own hands. Lance followed the beast’s eyes and jumped when its hands suddenly burst into flames, holding the duel fires almost casually as if they weren’t burning at hundreds of degrees against its fur and skin.

Lance gaped, astounded, and terrified. The monster glanced back up at him and Lance curled in on himself under its attention. The fires were suddenly extinguished as the monster shook its hands out and stepped back before sitting heavily on the floor and facing Lance, the wood groaning loudly beneath the massive weight. The beast stared at him patiently, drawing its long arms up until they rested casually on its knees. Lance swallowed, hard.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly with a short nod, voice shaking from shock. “I believe you.”

He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t saw it himself, but it was surprisingly easy to comprehend now that he looked at the thing. The clothes the boy had been wearing that were now worn by the beast were still the same, and it explained why they were stretched so extremely. The way the beast sat, with its arms on its knees and its body hunched over and its eyes staring in boredom, was entirely human.

A thick tail that ended in a mass of tangled black hair curled around to rest by the beast’s feet, the tip occasionally twitching up and down. Lance watched it for a moment before turning back to the monster’s eyes.

“Okay, so . . .” he began, feeling entirely uncomfortable in the presence of such a looming creature, “you’re a big giant monster.”

The beast cocked a thick, unimpressed brow at Lance’s obvious conclusion.

“Do you, uh . . . can you understand me?”

It nodded its massive head, its neck moving with the motion.

“Can I . . . understand you?”

The beast curled half of its lip in a growl, to which Lance frowned. It shook its head then.

“Okay. Um. How long do you stay like that?”

Lance hadn’t spent enough time with the boy in his normal form to determine if Lance really liked him at all, but he certainly felt less insignificant and powerless when the boy was normal (and shorter than him). Lance really didn’t want to hang around the beast any longer than he had to.

The beast gave a small shrug before its eyes wandered elsewhere, giant ears flattening a little with disinterest. Lance got a glimpse of the monster’s profile; it looked somewhat feline, aided by the ears. But the head seemed too boxy for a cat. Definitely not a dog, though. He could cross “werewolf” off his list. He was pretty sure werewolves didn’t spontaneously combust at will, anyway.

Lance glanced nervously over at the table his phone was on. “Hey, uh . . . I’m supposed to have classes today. I got to get back to school.” The beast turned its head slightly back in his direction to eye him curiously, and Lance gulped with the attention back on him. He pointed at the table his phone was on. “I’m just going to . . . yeah.”

Lance slowly pushed himself to his feet before cautiously padding over to the table, keeping one wary eye on the beast as he went. He bent down to pick up his rifle, hands shaking as they closed around the smooth metal, then hissed when he momentarily stumbled over his bad foot and agitated his injured toes. The beast didn’t make any movement to stand, but simply watched him with mild interest. When Lance finally reached the table, he lowered his rifle to its surface and picked up his phone, careful to keep his movements slow—just in case. He took his eyes off the beast long enough to glance at his screen.

Thank God his phone wasn’t dead. It was teetering on the edges of its battery life, but it’d hold up for a little longer—he didn’t have his charger, but even if he did, he doubted the shack he was in had any electricity. He thumbed through the lock screen to find a slew of panicked text messages dominating his screen.

 

H: Hey man you doing okay? It’s been a couple hours and I wanted to make sure you’re not dead or anything haha.

_ Received at 1:13am _

H: You on your way back yet? It’s getting pretty late. Respond asap.

_ Received at 2:21am _

H: Hey buddy you’re freaking me out a little can you just send me something so I know you’re okay? It’s almost morning please tell me where you are.

_ Received at 3:05am _

H: Lance please answer me.

H: Lance.

H: Paging Mr. McClain.

H: Dude come on I’m actually getting really worried.

H: I swear if you’re not back by the time I wake up I’m telling administration.

_ Received at 3:42am _

H: Okay I didn’t tell administration you’re gone yet but dude PLEASE RESPOND SOON OR I WILL.

_ Received at 7:37am _

P: hey idk if you’re dead or not yet but hunk’s been freaking out all night so if you could just text one of us soon that’d be great otherwise he’s gonna inform the whole school of your death and then everyone will be looking for you

_ Received at 10:18am _

 

Lance sighed. He was in a real mess now. He couldn’t even blame Hunk for wanting to tell the Garrison; the school would figure out he was missing eventually anyway. His only real shot was getting back as soon as possible and hoping the engineers didn’t miss one of their buggies before he did.

He supposed he should start by taking some of the worry off his friends’ shoulders.

 

L: Pidge tell hunk to take it easy before he hurts himself.

_ Sent at 12:16pm _

 

One down.

 

L: Dude if you tell anyone i’m not home i will end you.

_ Sent at 12:17pm _

H: BRO YOU’RE ALIVE!!

_ Received at 12:17pm _

H: Dude you have no idea how worried I was I didn’t sleep at all last night and I was freaking out in class cause you still weren’t there and I nearly threw up before we went to lunch!

_ Received at 12:17pm _

L: I’ll be back later i just ran into some complications no worries.

_ Received at 12:18pm _

H: What kind of complications?

_ Received at 12:18pm _

 

“That thing’s been going off all night.”

Lance yelped and whipped around, bumping into the table as he recoiled and nearly dropping his phone in the process. The boy was standing there, just a few steps away, all traces of the hulking monster gone. He hadn’t even heard the boy approach.

“Don’t scare me like that!” Lance snapped irritably, his heart pounding in his chest.

“All I did was talk.”

“You were eighty feet tall two seconds ago, hotshot! How was I supposed to expect you to just say something normal?” Lance ran a trembling hand through his hair, leaning against the table and working to control his breathing and slow his rapid pulse. He took one long, shaking breath before frowning at the boy. “Are you able to just change whenever you want?”

The boy shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. If I have the energy. It can be tiring.”

“Yeah, alright,” Lance nodded weakly, accepting the answer with little urge to press. As insane as it was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve super deep into the boy’s power. It terrified him and he really hoped the boy wasn’t planning on changing again any time soon. His phone suddenly vibrated and he glanced at it.

 

P: dude i’m gonna kill you i was actually starting to think you were dead asshole

P: hunk said you had some complications or whatever so you better get explaining

_ Received at 12:21pm _

L: Pidge you will not believe the shit i saw.

L: I’ll tell you later i’m a little busy right now but you better be ready to hear some shit.

_ Sent at 12:23pm _

 

“Look, I gotta get back to school,” Lance said suddenly, glancing up at the boy to find him staring curiously at the phone. The boy looked up a second later. “I drove here in a Garrison vehicle so I really need to get that back. And also, my VGO. Do you know where the oasis is from here?”

“You want to go back?” the boy asked, perplexed.

“Yeah, I have to grab my things so I can get back to the Garrison. It’s like an hour’s drive by buggy, I can’t just walk.”

The boy thought for a moment, brow creasing in thought. He crossed his arms as he considered Lance’s words. It didn’t matter if he agreed or not, anyway, Lance would find the oasis on his own if he had to. It’s not like the boy could keep him in this disgusting shack against his will.

Okay, he absolutely had the power to do exactly that, but Lance doubted he would. He had to get back to school or he’d be so in for it.

“I destroyed all the Galra who touched down last night,” the boy muttered lowly, his eyes wandering to one of the windows. “I can’t guarantee they didn’t send more. The oasis might be swarming with them for all we know.”

“Dude, please, I gotta get that buggy back. It’s my only way back to the Garrison.”

The boy eyed him, frowning. “I could take you back.”

Lance immediately recoiled at everything the boy’s offer could have implied. “No, no, no way. If I don’t bring it back before the Garrison finds out it’s missing, they’ll figure out I took it and then I’m in hot water. I might as well shoot myself at that point.”

“Jesus, okay, calm down,” the boy huffed. He sighed heavily through his nose. “I’ll bring you to the oasis. But if the Galra are there, we turn around and leave. You already almost died once.”

“Yeah, whatever, cool. How far is it?”

The boy ignored the way Lance’s voice clipped impatiently. “Not far. An hour’s walk. Or a ten-minute run.”

“Ten minutes—” But then Lance remembered the beast’s powerful legs and figured that it could probably run as fast as a car if it wanted to. “Yeah, I can’t do that.”

The boy shifted on his feet from side to side, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Want a ride?”

Lance gawked at him, then shook his head furiously. “No way, hotshot. I’d rather walk.”

The boy dropped his arms, looking somewhat relieved at the refusal, then frowned curiously at Lance. “Why do you keep calling me hotshot?”

“I don’t know, probably because you can set yourself on fire.”

 The boy rolled his eyes before padding over to the door. “Let’s get a move on, then.”

“Hey, uh,” Lance began, and the boy paused at the door, hand pressed to the splintering wood. He looked back over his shoulder, eyes impatient as he stared back. Lance awkwardly flexed his fingers over and over, pocketing his phone and shouldering his rifle. “Um. Thanks. You know, for last night. And helping me now. Uh, my name’s Lance.”

The boy’s eyes studied him, looking him up and down slowly in silent consideration. He cocked a tamed eyebrow.

 “Keith.” Then the boy pushed his way through the door and out into the bright desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> desperately tries to remember html class i took freshman year mmmmmmmm i just.............. l.ove formatting it's ju'st s o fucjking mmmmmmmmmmmmmm GOO D FUCKING STUFF and i forgot about ao3's limited html shit or whatever so after the rich text editor lied to me for an hour i went and made a custom work skin for text logs so they're easier to read (not that they'll show up often) so gg i guess. i haven't touched css in like two years cause it's yucky and i hate it so if there's any problems with formatting please let me know so i can fix it.


	3. A New Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance retraces his steps and experiences a Worst Case Scenario. Keith tags along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i am really tired i just finished pulling an all nighter and i'm waiting for my 8:00 class at this time lol. it's still sunday for me until i fall asleep so this is technically on time. finals, yo :/. i spent all night rigging in maya kill me. i'm thinking when finals are done i might start posting chapters as soon as they're done rather than waiting every week, with the obligation of at least one every week (illustrated or not). one chapter a week is really slow and so far i've proved to myself i can keep up with it easily so i might try going a little faster. in before i regret it.

“Oh my _God._ Are we almost there?”

“You’ve been complaining for the last twenty minutes as if I didn’t tell you it was an hour by foot,” Keith snapped irritably. Lance groaned at the sky, bright and blue far above them with the afternoon sun.

They had been walking for a while. Lance knew it hadn’t been an hour yet, but it certainly felt like it. His feet ached as he trudged over the cracked, arid ground, his injured toes throbbing with each step. The sun was relentless, open to the world due to an unfortunate lack of clouds (not uncommon for the Garrison’s desert but _come on)._ Lance had long forgone his jacket, instead opting to tie the sleeves around his waist so that his arms could breathe a little. Sweat dampened his shirt and coated his skin, irritating the cut on his cheek, and he scratched at it relentlessly. Keith walked beside him, seemingly unbothered by the trek.

He desperately yearned for a shower.

“We’ve gotta be almost there by now,” Lance heaved, shoulders heavy with the weight of the heat. He had been out of breath for some time, not used to strenuous amounts of physical activity. Flying a shuttle simulator didn’t require a lot of moving, after all, and he had knocked out his phys-ed requirement his first year at the Garrison just to get it out of the way.

And, of course, he was _starving._ The last thing he’d eaten had been a couple junk snacks late the previous night with Pidge, and it was well past noon at that point. He’d missed breakfast and lunch, and his stomach was doing an astounding job of reminding him of that fact. He couldn’t wait to get back.

“Relax, we are. I can smell the oasis already,” Keith said, and Lance stared at him. He had half a mind to question the whole smelling part, but he knew he’d then be crossing back over into weird monster territory. He preferred to ignore it.

They continued their walk in silence. Keith had yet to keep any conversation going for an extended period of time, seemingly at ease with traveling without words. But Lance itched to talk, just to fill the silence. The only sound ringing in his ears was the repetitive shuffling of their feet in the dirt and it was driving him crazy. The desert had little scenery to offer to distract him. He needed something to focus on.

“So, uh,” he began awkwardly, his mind wracking for a subject, “how long have you lived out here?”

Keith shrugged. “Few years, I think. Found that old shack when I was—I think I was fifteen? Yeah. It was furnished but abandoned, weirdly enough. So, I just took it over and I’ve kind of been there ever since.”

“So, you live alone?”

“Yep.”

“No parents, or--”

Keith suddenly looked away, a deep frown wrinkling his features. “No,” he said shortly, and Lance relented immediately, sensing he’d crossed a line. The silence fell between them again, but it was thicker. Lance regretted taking that route, so he tried fishing for something else to talk about.

“Um. You got any hobbies?”

“Hobbies? Oh, yeah. Definitely. I run around, I kill things, I eat them, and I sleep.”

Lance cut the conversation off there immediately, turning to face forward as he settled back into the ever-familiar feeling of discomfort whenever _it_ was brought up. He remembered the ease in which the beast had torn the sentries apart and imagined what it could do to a living thing. He shuddered at the images his mind came up with.

“Sometimes, I travel.”

Lance glanced back over, his eyes drawn to how Keith’s voice softened somewhat as he said it. Keith was staring distantly at the land ahead, his mind somewhere else.

“I like being alone, but even I can get lonely out here. I’ll sometimes run away to different places, just for a change of scenery. I have some friends out west that I visit here and there.”

Lance waited for Keith to continue, but the other boy had apparently said all he needed to. Lance thought for a moment, his curious mind drawing up questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask, but the urge was strong.

“Have you . . . always been able to, you know . . .” Lance began with a gesturing hand, trying to animate his point without saying it outright.

Keith understood just fine. “No,” he answered. “Not always. I used to live in the city before it happened.”

“Do you miss being around people?”

“No.”

The answer was short and curt; there was a story behind it, hiding beneath the single syllable and the sharpness of Keith’s tone, but Lance didn’t press for it. He was confident he wouldn’t get it if he asked, anyway. He wondered if it had anything to do with the monster or if it was an even earlier event that could have caused such distaste in people company. Either way, Keith was probably better off alone in the middle of the desert, where the beast lurking beneath his skin could thrive far away from human involvement. Lance wondered, briefly, if he was the first person to truly interact with Keith in his time away from civilization; he wondered how many people existed who had ever glimpsed the monster before him.

His mind kept wandering back to the beast. As uncomfortable as it made him, it was such a bizarre occurrence that his mind couldn’t ignore it. He was effectively walking alongside a monster the size of his Garrison buggy hiding within the body of a greasy adolescent boy, and it was so difficult to comprehend despite having seen it himself.

Aliens had once been considered science-fiction, long ago. But giant werecat-things? Straight out of a bad fantasy novel.

He felt as if he’d regret asking, but his curiosity was eating him alive. “Hey,” Lance said, and Keith’s eyes flicked over. “What exactly _is_ it?”

“What’s what?’”

“You know, your . . .” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “you being a big thing. What is it?”

Keith raised an eyebrow at Lance’s eloquent wording but didn’t appear at all uncomfortable with the question. “It’s a lion.”

“A lio—seriously?”

“Yes. It’s a lion.”

“No offense but that looked nothing like a lion.”

Keith rolled his eyes and said, “Look, I promise you, it’s a lion. I can turn into a giant, red, fire-breathing lion.”

“Why’s it red?”

“I don’t—why is _that_ the part that surprises you? You saw me light up those Galra.”

“How exactly does it work, anyway?”

“I have no idea. I’m the wrong person to ask. Mostly what I know is that it’s part of a weird alien magic from a weird alien planet that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Aliens again. That helped make it a bit more believable but not help make much sense due to his planet’s universal lack of knowledge regarding alien life and its potential aspects.

Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith. “You’re not an alien, are you?”

“What? No, I’m—I already told you I didn’t have it my whole life. You contract it like a disease. An incurable disease. It’s permanent.”

Lance’s eyes widened at that. “Oh,” he said softly. Keith must have sensed his change in mood.

“It’s not bad. Really. It was really weird at first, but I got used to it and now it’s pretty useful. It lets me easily live out here.”

“Away from people?”

Lance knew he was pushing his luck as soon as Keith glared at him, eyes flashing. It was a topic he knew he should probably stray away from, but he couldn’t help trying to frustrate an answer out of Keith.

Keith pulled his mouth into a thin line. “Yeah,” he answered briskly. “Away from people.” Lance didn’t have the time to mourn his failed attempt at a backstory as Keith turned back to the desert ahead. “We’re here. Let’s get your shit and leave.”

Lance blinked in confusion before realizing the ground ahead was giving way to a cliff, having been too engrossed in his conversation with Keith that he hadn’t noticed the nearing oasis sooner. It only took about a dozen more paces before they reached the edge, and they stopped to look over the trees below.

The oasis was effectively wrecked from the previous night. Though much of it still stood as normal, there were patches of burnt vegetation littering the place, especially off to one side. Rocks from the cliff faces had tumbled into the oasis during the firefight, mixing chunks of brown with green. The air was still and quiet. Peaceful.

The Galra were nowhere to be found.

“Guess they left,” Lance said with a shrug, but Keith’s eyes still roamed vigilantly over the trees. He didn’t say anything, but he also didn’t disagree, so Lance began walking along the edge of the cliff to search for a way down.

He knew he had left his buggy at one of the ends of the oasis, so it was only a matter of remembering which end. Either way, it wouldn’t take long to find. He kicked down small rocks as he went, glancing over his shoulder to find Keith silently following, the boy’s eyes scanning the sky for signs of any more invaders.

Soon enough, he found the same incline he had used to drive down the rocks, identifying it by the tire tracks left behind in the dirt. He hurried down quickly to where he remembered he had left the vehicle, following the tracks all the way. His stomach dropped upon reaching the bottom of the cliff.

“What the _fuck,”_ he cursed aloud, eyes flicking wildly around the area. “It’s gone!” There was no buggy in sight. The only evidence that remained to prove it had ever been there was deep indents in the dirt where the tires had rested.

In fact, the area was completely void of any technology, Garrison _or_ Galra. The scraps of sentries that Keith had littered the oasis with were gone as well. The only signs of struggle were the burnt trees and laser holes in the cliff faces. If Lance didn’t already know Keith had won the fight, the outcome of the battle would be unclear due to the lack of robot corpses.

He heard Keith approach from behind him. “Looks like they did come back,” Keith said, coming to stand beside Lance. “And they cleaned up after themselves. Probably didn’t want to chance making things harder by adding human resistance to their job.”

“Yeah and they took my fucking _car_!” Lance cried hysterically, fisting his hands into his hair. “Why else would it be missing?! I can’t _believe_ those assholes!”

“Settle down. Maybe it’s not gone,” Keith said, walking forward a few paces and scanning the trees. “Maybe they moved it. Let’s check the rest of the oasis before you start freaking out.”

Lance heaved a sigh and dragged his hands down his face before screwing his eyes shut. He was not confident in the idea. _“Ugh._ Fine. Let’s look for it, I guess.”

“I can cover ground faster if I shift,” he heard Keith say, and before he could protest the inclusion of the beast, heavy footsteps quickly pounded away from him. He opened his eyes in time to see Keith bound into the trees, a flash of red among the green. He groaned inwardly before resigning himself to searching for his missing vehicle.

He wandered lazily through the trees, half-heartedly searching around rocks, and kicking his way through the splintered wood that had resulted from the night before. He caught sight of Keith’s beastly form perched up on one of the cliffs and gazing down over the area with sharp eyes, monstrously huge even with the distance. Lance shuddered at the sight and tried to ignore him, keeping his head down as he continued walking.

His slow pace resulted in little ground being covered, but by some miracle he ended up tripping over his VGO again. It felt like a hollow fortune at that point, but at least it was one positive. He figured Keith had the rest of the area covered, so he dragged himself back up the rocks and sat at the edge of the cliff, feet resting halfway on open air. He overlooked the oasis with a heavy heart, legs bent and his back slouching with despair while he tapped his fingers against his VGO, eyes following Keith as the monster leapt through the brush in search of the buggy. Eventually, Keith spotted him up on the cliff and gave him a defeated shrug, the emote startlingly out of place on such a ghastly creature, and Lance returned it with a hopeless wave of his free hand.

“Figures,” he muttered to himself, eyes rising to rest distantly on the desert beyond. “I’m so dead.”

Lance had no way of knowing how severe the consequences might be for his choice. The worst offense he’d ever seen at the Garrison consisted of a pair of students breaking into the armory, and that had resulted in expulsion for each of them. But he stole a Garrison-owned vehicle; an expensive, specially-engineered sand buggy that were only meant to be used by certified employees and students who underwent a lengthy test for a temporary license (and even then, they had to have written permission from administration each time they wanted to use them). And he couldn’t even get it back because aliens took it.

The sudden sounds of scraping rocks seized his attention and he jumped when Keith’s massive hand—paw? Whatever—suddenly popped over the cliff edge. Claws dug into the dirt as the beast hauled himself over the edge and onto the ground before seating himself next to Lance in a similar fashion, facing the oasis with his feet dangling over the edge. Lance had to will his heart to slow when Keith glanced cautiously at him, an apologetic grimace on his monstrous features.

Having a chance to really look at the beast’s face, Lance could see the clear resemblance to a lion, though Keith being at the helm underneath added quite a bit of expression. It was both fascinating and disturbing.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged in response to the lion, idly toying with his VGO. “I’ll figure something out.”

This wasn’t a mess he could easily weasel himself out of. Pidge might be able to buy him some time by making some changes in the engineers’ logs, but once they noticed the vehicle physically missing, it was over. They’d investigate until the finger inevitably pointed at him. And then he’d be punished.

A beat of silence passed. “What are you going to do?”

Lance looked over and Keith was back to normal, sitting beside him like a beast the size of a rhino wasn’t in his place a moment before. The abrupt changes were so jarring it left Lance reeling every time he looked over to see something different. The disturbed dirt around Keith was the only thing that implied his previous state.

Lance shrugged, a frown tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. I can’t go back without it. Even if I could manage the trip, I’d get into huge trouble. They’ll find out I jacked it without authorization soon enough.” He sighed miserably. “I might get expelled. Or fined. Maybe even arrested, I don’t know. I’m not sure how serious of a mistake this is. I broke a lot of rules coming out here last night.”

“Wish there was something I could do to help.”

Lance gave him a half-smile. “You saved my life. That was pretty cool.”

“But it’s my fault the Galra were here in the first place.” Keith drew in on himself, knees coming to his chest and arms hugging his legs. He looked angry. “I was getting careless.”

Lance looked at him curiously. “You said you had something they wanted. What was it?’

Keith didn’t answer for a long time. He flexed his fingers repeatedly, brow drawn in thought, eyes locked on the ground in front of him. “It’s—they want—” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a long story and it’s not easy to explain.”

“Alright.” Lance decided to leave that subject alone. His eyes kept studying the large imprint that circled Keith, the reminder of the power that hid within him. He remembered the fire that burned the oasis, the sentries being ripped in half, the burning eyes staring down on him. It had shocked fear in him so hot it seared a hole in his mind.

But Keith seemed very at ease with Lance knowing about the lion, despite its horrific appearance. He carried the power with a sense of nonchalance, using it almost casually, whether it be to drive a point home or to use as a method of convenience. He mentioned eating things he killed, but he didn’t seem to be out of his mind while he was in the lion’s body; Keith appeared to have full control of his monstrous form as he would his human body. He had portrayed himself as imposing, as a force to be reckoned with, but he had yet to raise a hand—paw—at Lance. He had yet to prove himself as any less than human.

And there was Lance, out in the middle of the desert and willingly sitting on a cliff with a short-tempered boy who could shift into a fire-powered, massive lion monster. And he was busy being terrified by what would happen if he returned to the Garrison empty-handed. He wondered then, briefly, if the lion was something he truly needed to be afraid of.

Lance turned his eyes to the sky, up to where he knew the Galra were lurking, far beyond his range of vision and far out of Earth’s range of awareness. “You think there’s any chance of getting my buggy back?” he asked, not really expecting a true answer to his question. He already knew the answer himself.

“If I were to guess, there’s a Galra cruiser circling the solar system, far enough away to keep out of Earth’s business. If they were here last night, then that means there’s at least one carrier orbiting the atmosphere, probably scrambling Earth signals to cloak its presence. If the Galra I destroyed last night are gone, then more came to clean up and returned to the carrier after. They probably took your buggy while they were at it, maybe to track its origin, I don’t know. So, you know,” Keith shrugged, “your vehicle’s long gone is basically what I’m getting at. Unless you can fly and you’re looking for a fight.”

Lance gaped at him. “Wow. Prior experience with the Galra much?”

Keith smirked. “Very little. But I’ve spent enough time talking shit about them with friends who do that I know a little about how they work. And it was just a guess, so I could be very wrong.”

Lance sighed, pushing his VGO away and placing his chin in his hands, grimacing when his sweaty palms pressed to the cut on his cheek. “I don’t think I can go back to the Garrison.”

“What?

“I’m scared of what’s gonna happen. I don’t want to face my family if I get expelled. I don’t know if I could handle it.”

“Whatever’ll happen, it can’t be any worse than frying to death in a desert.”

Lance gave him a pointed look. “You haven’t met my mom, so I’d have to argue that.”

“Lance, you can’t stay out here. What would you do? Where would you go?”

“That’s the part I’m still trying to figure out.” There wasn’t much in the desert. He couldn’t really make it anywhere on foot, either. The only structures for miles were the Garrison and Keith’s shack, and the Garrison was hours away.

Lance offered Keith a tentative grin. “Can I stay in your dirty shack for a while?”

“Seriously? You’re that desperate?”

“Where else am I going to go?”

“No, you can’t stay in my house.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” Keith paused, jaw working in thought, “because _I’m_ not even staying in my house.”

“Wait, what?”

“I need to leave.” Keith turned his eyes to the horizon. “There’s someone I need to talk to. About everything that’s—about last night. About the Galra.”

 “Who?”

“Just—just a friend of mine. Out west. Has a little experience with the Galra. I’ll probably lay low there for a while until everything cools off. Hopefully.”

The careful way Keith was wording his sentences was not lost on Lance. The boy was hiding something, but Lance had no way of finding out what. He ignored the prodding curiosity in his mind.

“So you, what, don’t trust me to be alone in your shack?”

“Stop calling it a shack.”

“It’s a shack.”

“It’s—whatever. You being alone is not my problem; there’s literally nothing in my house that’s edible for you. You’d starve. It’s probably not even healthy for you to stay in there very long.”

“I slept there?”

“For half a night!”

“What am I supposed to do then?!”

“If you’d _shut up_ for a second I could tell you!” Keith snapped, his eyes locked on the ground but his lip still curling slightly in aggravation to show teeth. Lance didn’t miss it; he knew Keith was still there when the lion’s body was present, but he hadn’t considered that maybe the lion also lingered when Keith was human. The thought had him tensing slightly.

“Listen,” Keith huffed, his shoulders heaving with the deep breaths he was easing himself through, “I told you I’m heading west. There’s a small town on the way—about a day’s walk by foot. By _your_ foot. I could take you there and you can figure out the rest from there.”

Lance considered that. Civilization meant food for certain, and the hunger gnawing at his gut was practically making his mind up for him. He’d possibly be able to buy a charger for his phone, so he’d be able to contact Pidge and Hunk about his plans later once his phone died (which would be very soon, he assumed). Better yet, he could finally drop the boy’s company and forget about the whole lion deal altogether. And he’d ultimately figure out what to do with himself.

He’d just have to tolerate lion-boy’s presence for a little while longer.

“Alright, deal, hotshot. You sold me. When do we leave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm participating in an overwatch tournament with my university's collegiate team next weekend so idk if i'll get the next one up on time or not. might just post it before I leave if I finish the last image in time. speaking of which i may format the images to be a little smaller. i feel like they're a little big, especially for smaller screens, and they're the size of the planet on mobile but i don't think anything can be done about that. oh well.


	4. The Divide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go for a walk. Lance is very far out of his element.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow! finals kicked my ass! but i'm finally settled back at home and i know i'm like four chapters behind lmao so double whammy today: here's 4 and 5. i'll be working my ass off to catch up on this shit and hopefully i can do that before the week ends, and since i haven't been reemployed yet, i have plenty of free time to burn.

Keith regretted bringing Lance along not even ten minutes into their journey.

The walk back to his house had been relatively easy. Lance had been cheerily animated the entire time, bouncing back and forth between mundane conversations whenever something interesting jumped into his head. He walked with a slight limp as he kept more weight off his injured foot but didn’t mention the pain bothering him at all, for which Keith had been grateful for after worrying that the walk ahead might be too harsh. The kid’s talent in keeping himself verbally occupied seemed to be keeping his mind off the injury well enough.

Until they began their walk west. Following a quick lockdown of the house to prevent any potential trespassers from entering his home (which there would likely be none), Keith realized early on that walking with Lance was going to be more of him dragging the kid along than anything else. Lance had kept himself busy for only a little while longer with texting his friends to give them the short, heavily-edited version of his plans (“My friend Pidge said he’s gonna alter the garage’s systems for me, just in case they check the logs and notice the buggy missing. That kid’s always got my back, let me tell you”), but once he ran himself dry of things to keep his hands busy, his cheery mood evaporated.

The complaining was relentless. If it wasn’t one thing, it was three others. Keith’s fears were quickly realized the moment a whine about a smarting toe left Lance’s mouth, followed by a million other things that inconvenienced him enough to announce to the world.

“Holy crow, it’s hot out.”

“I’m sweating like crazy. I need a shower; I haven’t taken one since last night and I am _dying.”_

“Ugh, I feel so greasy. Do you ever shower? Your shack didn’t look like it had a shower. Please tell me you shower.”

“My feet hurt. How long did you say this would take again?”

“Hey, wait up! Not all of us are used to walking across the universe’s largest desert.”

“Shit. My phone died.”

“Dude, I am _starving.”_

“What do you want me to do about it?!” Keith snapped as he whirled on Lance, his temper finally giving under the constant complaining. The kid paused his walking, staring back with eyebrows raised in mild surprise. He looked as if Keith’s outburst was unexpected, like his whining wasn’t unbearably obnoxious to listen to constantly. It only made Keith fume further.

“Man, I don’t know. How do you eat out here?” Lance shrugged as he wiped at his brow and readjusted his gun on his shoulder.

“I already told you. I hunt animals and I eat them. Raw. I can do that, you know.”

Lance wrinkled his nose a little. “You don’t cook them?”

“Waste of time.”

Lance looked uncomfortable with that bit of information, but he kept it to himself. He shifted his weight on his feet, eyes darting around. “You uh, you wouldn’t be bothered to cook something for me, would you?”

Keith’s hot stare fell flat. “You haven’t eaten for not even twenty-four hours. I’ll tell you right now that you’d have to be without food for a week before you could stomach eating a fire-roasted rodent.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But I’ve known you for about three hours so I’m taking an educated guess.” He knew, though. He definitely knew. The kid’s incessant bellyaching already proved that he was too spoiled by routine—there was little chance his cultured stomach would take to desert game without making a fit. And Keith was not about to have upset stomach added to Lance’s list of things to bitch about.

“I don’t know, hotshot. The Garrison’s cafeteria isn’t exactly a thing to be impressed by.”

Keith scowled at the nickname; it was stupid, and he wished Lance would stop calling him that, but he kept to himself about it. He’d be rid of the kid soon enough. “Garrison food is five-star compared to what I’d get you.”

“How would you know?”

“Well, for starters, the Garrison seasons its food. You ever had unseasoned food?”

Lance actually started at that. He recovered after a second and narrowed his eyes. “You seem to know a lot about how the Garrison handles its food.”

“Every institution seasons its foods,” Keith said with a roll of his eyes, turning away from Lance to pick up where he’d left off walking. He shook his head at Lance’s constant attempts to pry. The kid was nosy, that was certain. “Look, I’m here to take you to the closest town. I’m not going to waste time going on a hunting trip so you can have a snack.”

“Can’t you run fast when you’re a lion?”

“Yes, actually, I can,” Keith ground through clenched teeth, still irked at Lance’s refusal to just suck it up and hitch a ride on his back, “and we’d be there in less than half the time if you’d just climb aboard.”

“I’m not riding that thing,” he heard Lance immediately answer and Keith sighed in aggravation. He had half a mind to shift anyway and just throw Lance over his shoulder, but the idea felt wrong the more he thought about it; Lance wasn’t comfortable with the lion, he understood that. But it was still annoying. His eyes fell on the horizon instead, his jaw locking as he resigned himself to ignoring Lance from then on.

The wide expanse of open land before him made his skin itch with the desire to shift and take control of the desert. He could feel the power flowing though his veins, heating his limbs and filling him with a restless energy that he wanted to exhaust by pounding over the sand until he spent himself completely and collapsed in a contented heap on the ground in the sun. The heat only made him twitchier and his fingers curled impatiently into his palms.

But instead he was stuck walking like a monkey with some loudmouth possessing the brain capacity of said monkey trailing behind him for the next several hours. He wondered why he was being punished for risking his skin to save the kid’s life. He’d done the right thing, right? Why’d everything have to have a catch?

Keith chose to retreat into the depths of his mind, blankly staring ahead as he focused on his own task to complete with the journey. He was only partly successful in tuning Lance out.

 

* * *

 

 

Some hours had passed by the time they came across the divide.

The sun had already begun to set, the sky shifting into its evening gradient over the cooling desert. Keith couldn’t help being irritated at the time they had lost—Lance had been all over the place ever since he began ignoring him.

There was one thing he knew for certain about Lance at that point: the kid absolutely required something to keep him busy at all times. Keith supposed he could empathize with Lance—he knew what it felt like to be restless and full of energy, but he wasn’t so inconsiderate as to inconvenience someone else with it. But if Lance couldn’t find entertainment, he made his own.

Lance had droned on for a considerable amount of time by himself, trying to pull responses from Keith and talk his way through his boredom. His complaints had started up again, but they were less whine than before and more casual statements than anything; they were still beyond annoying, but Keith managed to hold his ground. Once Lance had realized the futility of his voice, he shut up, but he began wandering to make up for the monotony of the journey. Time and time again, Keith had to shout at him to keep up, to stop shuffling in a different direction towards a point of interest, to leave the rattlesnake _alone._ At some point, the gun came down, and Lance used its sights to scan the desert’s horizon. He shot it a few times (the first having startled Keith so harshly he fell flat on his back, much to his complete outrage), aiming at the occasional boulder and stray bush.

And finally, his ephemeral attention span was drawn to the wall of rock formations laid out before them, their colossal shadows already growing longer on the desert ground with the lowering sun.

“Woah,” he muttered, the awe in his voice weakened none by the low volume of his voice.

His wonder was completely justified, and it was something Keith could easily agree with. The desert’s divide was stunning—a series of monolithic rock formations that cut through the land in a big line for miles, inconveniencing anyone who wished to travel through. It was a beautiful formation, the sun silhouetting the rocks so that it looked like a wall of obsidian spires against the shifting sky. He had climbed to the top countless times; the view was stunning. It was possible to go around it, and he knew where it ended because he had run to its ends out of curiosity before. So far, no man creation had attempted to cut through it, and he hoped nothing ever would.

“I call it the divide,” Keith mentioned, choosing to keep his eyes on the tops of the rocks instead of turning back to Lance. “Completely splits this part of the desert. It’s really cool.”

“I’ll say,” Lance agreed, his voice still struck with fond astonishment. A beat passed. “How do we get past it?”

Keith glanced back at him and smiled knowingly. “We climb it.”

Lance frowned. “Uh—”

“Before you whine, no, you can’t go around it. Actually, that’s not true, you _can_ go around it, but it would take days to get back on track if we did. We’re not doing that. We’re going over it.”

Lance opened his mouth as if to argue, but his eyes flicked back to the towering rocks and he reconsidered his words. Expressive as the kid was, Keith could see a hundred different thoughts enter Lance’s mind before being quickly replaced by the next as he sorted out his confliction.

Finally, he sighed. “Please tell me there’s an easy path up.”

“Nope,” Keith answered cheerfully. “You climb the face of a cliff and hope you don’t fall.”

Lance blanched and Keith’s smile widened.

The walk to the rocks was filled with a thick silence as Lance nervously followed Keith. The rocks almost held a powerful presence in the evening when their shadows stretched out across the desert, enveloping everything for miles and encasing the land in an early darkness. They had blocked the sun long ago and now Keith and Lance marched in the cool shadows. Lance stuck close, the darkening environment likely impeding his vision a little, especially after so long looking into the sun, but Keith could see everything crystal clear.

When they reached the base of the rocks, Lance was quivering slightly.

“Look, hotshot, I don’t know—”

“It’s not that bad of a climb. I’ve done it both with the lion and without. It’s doable.”

Lance tilted his head to stare up the face of the cliff, his eyes widening the further they had to travel to get to the top. He fingered the strap of his rifle across his chest and swallowed hard. His eyes fell back to Keith, body stiff with anxiety.

Keith rolled his eyes and motioned with his hand. “Just do as I do.” He turned to the rocks, braced his feet, and charged into a running start to push himself up the incline enough that he could reach the first ledge. His fingers caught easily on the rough surface, and he kicked at the cliff face as he hauled himself over the edge into a sitting position. He smirked down at Lance, who stood a few feet below him.

“Easy enough, sharpshooter?” Keith asked drily with a quirk of his eyebrow, giving his own nickname a shot. He wasn’t sure he was fond of it; it felt unnatural on his tongue and weird to give to the kid, especially since he planned to drop him the moment they reached town, but he needed something to counter ‘hotshot.’ He wasn’t even sure if Lance was that good with his gun.

Lance’s eyes hardened with determination after that, so either the nickname riled him up or Keith’s demonstration inspired him to give it his own try. Either way, it was progress. “Easy peasy,” Lance said as he took a few steps back, braced himself as Keith did, and charged at the cliff.

Keith didn’t even try to help when Lance’s fingers slipped from the edge next to him. He watched, amused, as Lance slid back down the incline, stumbling over his ridiculously-sized shoes and swearing the whole way. He straightened once recovered, fuming up at Keith, and Keith shrugged.

“You can do it,” he deadpanned, the encouragement flat but there regardless. He had no doubt Lance could make it on his own if the kid gave it another go, but he figured Lance would give up once the cliff got steeper and would have to allow Keith to shift in order to finish the climb. Then he could finally start making real headway.

Lance caught the ledge on the second try. It took him some time to figure out how to pull himself up, but he eventually did. He sat himself, puffing and heaving, next to Keith, legs dangling over the edge similarly. Lance frowned at him but he only returned a challenging smile.

“Congrats. You’re five percent of the way there,” Keith stated sarcastically before standing and heading to the next rock. He could feel Lance’s eyes on him as he scaled the next rock, taking his time to ensure the kid was able to follow his lead and replicate the easiest path up. He turned back, after a moment, to see Lance slowly trailing behind him, eyes locked in hard concentration on the rocks as he carefully picked his way after Keith.

The base of the cliffs was easy; it was essentially a series of smaller rocks stacked on top of one another that could be scaled in tandem. Progress was slow due to Lance’s inexperience, but the kid was determined, even with the return of the hunger complaints. Every time Keith called back to him with an out via the lion, his face would harden and he would shut his mouth and he would move a little faster.

Keith had to admit, the kid was tougher than he thought.

“I really appreciate you taking the lead, and I just wanted to say that I have a wonderful view of your ass hanging out from down here,” Lance called up bitterly, his voice strained with effort as he pushed himself up to the next ledge. His voice echoed off the rocks, mixing with the faint hum of wind from the elevation. Keith rolled his eyes and finished his stretch of climb, seating himself on the extruded ledge as he patiently waited for Lance to catch up.

“You ever consider wearing a belt?” came Lance’s voice again.

“No, I don’t. Nor have I ever, because the second I shift into a lion, it would snap.”

He heard Lance _pfft,_ followed by short coughs that must have been a consequence to blowing directly against the dusty rock face. He looked down to find Lance a short distance below him, still recovering from his coughing fit. His gun bounced noisily against his back from the sharp movements.

“Do you have to shift?” the kid asked, voice choppy from lingering coughs.

“No, but why wouldn’t I?”

“So, you could take the belt off before changing.”

“Why would I waste the time?”

“So your ass doesn’t hang out everywhere.”

“Lance, I live alone in the middle of the desert. There’s no one around to see me.”

“Well, when you put it that way, why bother wearing clothes at all?”

Keith leaned over to catch Lance’s eye and shrugged. “Basic human decency?”

Lance’s fingers finally latched to the top of the ledge. “Right,” he breathed with effort, “can’t forget the weird guy living in a dirty shack with the ability to transform into a giant cat is _human—”_

Lance gasped loudly as his fingers slipped from the ledge, but Keith reacted instantly. His hand clasped tightly around the kid’s wrist, locking him in place, and he heard Lance’s gun slap against his back from the sudden drop. His reflexes were something he’d never be ungrateful for. Lance, on the other hand, stared back wide-eyed, chest heaving with freight after having almost fallen from the cliff face. Keith could feel Lance’s rapid-fire pulse beneath his fingers. For a moment, neither one of them moved, allowing reality to catch up to remind them (mostly Lance) that disaster had been successfully avoided.

Keith couldn’t help the half-smile that tugged at his lips. “It helps if you pay attention to what you’re doing,” he said, a hint of smugness leaking into his voice; it was inappropriate, but he remembered how in-control of the situation he currently was, and he couldn’t resist. It didn’t seem to register on Lance, who was still frozen in his state of shock, so Keith effortlessly pulled the kid on top of the ledge to safety. Lance grunted as he scrambled onto the rock, his feet kicking wildly to gain purchase and his hands clawing for a hold. He sat up and tucked himself against the cliff face away from the edge. Keith could hear the shakiness in his hard breaths, could practically hear the ferocious pounding of his heart in his chest.

Lance’s eyes flicked to his. “Holy crow,” he muttered breathlessly, voice quivering. Keith couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for the kid—he was way out of his element and a long way from home. Part of it was Lance’s fault, sure, but part of it was also Keith’s.

“You okay?” Keith asked, simply out of obligation. He had to remember the desert was his territory and the kid was pretty much his responsibility until he could drop him off at the nearest civilized settlement. The least he could do was ensure the kid made it in once piece, especially after everything that’d already happened.

Lance nodded hesitantly, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I’m good.” His voice was still wavy but at least he had the confidence to lie. “Just almost fell to my death is all. Easy peasy.”

“You know, I could always go lion and carry you the rest of the way—”

“I’m not riding your dumb lion, Keith. Give it up,” Lance snapped, and Keith blinked. It was the first time Lance had bothered to use his actual name. He must be pretty shaken. Apparently not shaken enough to allow room for the lion but shaken pretty far out of his comfort zone regardless.

“Lance, it’s safe. We’d be up and over before you knew it.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. I’m already beyond stressed from the shitty rock climbing thing we’re doing, I don’t want to add Lion Goliath into it. My poor heart’s going to give out.”

Keith glanced at the top of the rock looming overhead and gestured with his hand. “Suit yourself. You should probably go first this time, though, just in case. It’s not much farther.” Lance tilted his head back until he was looking straight up at the rock cliff behind him, following Keith’s instruction and confirming the remaining length for himself. He sagged miserably and sighed before slowly climbing to his feet and starting up again.

Progress was slower after that, but it was probably for the best; Lance falling and forfeiting the entire climb wasn’t exactly productive, so he was more cautious with his movements as he ascended. He also didn’t speak, so Keith assumed that Lance must be channeling all his focus into the task. It left a comfortable silence to hang in the air, the only sounds being Lance’s exertion, the scraping of his shoes against the rock, and the clacking of his gun. Keith kept focusing on the weapon suspended freely above him, only held in place by a long strap across Lance’s chest; it had to have been annoying to have it continuously knock into him, but Lance didn’t pay any visible attention to it.

The distraction caused Keith to misstep. He slipped but quickly caught himself, shuddering from the unpleasant sensation of his claws dragging into rock. When he looked up, Lance was staring back down at him, eyes locked on his hand and the fingernails that had sharpened themselves out of instinct.

“Alien magic,” Keith reminded him, and Lance nodded weakly.

“Alien magic,” the kid repeated to himself in a quiet mumble. Keith didn’t feel like waiting for him to process it, so he extended all of his claws and quickly bounded up and around the stunned kid, the sharp tools easily catching the rough surface. His hand shot up and his fingers curled over the top edge, and with one kick he hopped onto the rock’s highest surface, the wind sweeping his hair from his face in a declaration of victory.

Lance was right behind him, so he just grabbed the kid behind the collar and hauled him up onto the flat rock, earning a strangled protest from him but Keith ignored it as he deposited the kid on the ground away from the edge. He had to squint his eyes against the setting sun after having been in shadow for so long, but once his vision adjusted, his breath left him.

The view always stunned him. The desert possessed little to look at but when witnessed in its entirety it was a masterpiece. The red sands mixed together and collided brilliantly with the orange and brown of rock, disrupted every so often by a gorge in the ground that sunk into shadow. Rock formations like the one they stood on now dotted the horizon. The setting sun added a layer of beauty to the picture: everything in sight cast long shadows, the distant rocks stretching out to meet the rest of the land. The sky was fading into its colorful gradient that announced the approaching nightfall, the oranges that kissed the horizon mixing with the warmth of the sands, fading into reds that faded into purples the further away from the sun they were.

It was the most beautiful place in the world. Or maybe he just thought that because it belonged to him.

“Crazy view,” Lance mentioned behind him, but he didn’t sound quite as excited. Keith assumed it due to the kid’s lingering near-death experience scrambling his head a little. Lance probably had little patience for the elevation and wanted to be on the ground again.

“Yeah,” Keith replied wistfully. He tore his eyes away from the desert lands to look back at Lance. The kid was still scanning the scene before him, but there was a weary crease to his features. His skin was more orange in the sun’s waning light, the cut on his cheek still an angry red, hair lifted off his forehead by the wind. He had a long face, Keith noted, and the events of the past twenty-four hours showed clearly on his features. His blue eyes were dulled, tired, overwhelmed. He looked a mess.

“You ready to go down?” Keith asked, and Lance’s eyes fell back to him. He blinked his thoughts away before nodding.

“Yeah. Let’s get it over with.” His voice was worn. Keith decided the kid could use some good news.

“You see those rocks all the way over there?” he pointed with a finger, and Lance followed the direction. “Town’s somewhere on the other side. Shouldn’t take longer than a couple hours to reach once we’re on the ground.”

“Right. And how long does it take to get down?”

Keith grimaced at the question and Lance groaned loudly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not my favorite images--i'm not too upset about it cause everything about this story's a learning experience, including the illustrations, but still. bleh. whatever i never have to look at them again thank god.
> 
> someday i'll consider a consistent rendering style, but that day is not today.


	5. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is not a fan of motels and Keith has a particular distaste for gas station pizza.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i really wasn't too pumped to write this chapter because it felt like i was progressing the plot too slowly, so i reconsidered some key points to make the story more exciting sooner and there will definitely be some action shit next chapter. not that i hate filler i just hate too much of it--don't want to bore myself ;). once i started writing this chapter it went easily and i finished it in like two sittings and ironically enough it has a higher word count than the previous chapters lol. the image was fun too.

It was early in the morning by the time they reached town.

The journey from the divide had been simple and straightforward with few obstacles and detours, fortunately. The walk itself had been a pain in the ass. Lance’s already-waning energy had gradually leaked from his body until he was silently dragging his feet after Keith, further slowing their progress. Keith had to verbally encourage the kid to pick it up multiple times, and every time they fell back into a snail’s pace, his frustration grew. He eventually resigned himself to arguing with Lance non-stop to keep the kid on his feet; the more heated the better. It was not enjoyable. More than once, the tempting idea to ditch the kid and take off as a lion crossed his mind. He tried to stay patient—Lance needed direction, after all. The darkest hours of the morning were hardly a hinder to Keith’s eyes, but Lance was practically blind in the inky blackness.

And he was relieved when he finally caught sight of lights down the hill following Lance tripping over a rock for the millionth time. The town was small, most of its residents asleep, and few lights were all that showed any signs of life in the dark buildings. It was a peaceful picture, the slumbering town sitting in the desert night.

Keith heard Lance shuffle up behind him. “Oh my _God._ Finally!” the kid groaned once he’d caught up and his eyes landed on the town. His voice was shockingly loud in the quiet night, cutting through the air like a knife. No, it wasn’t as smooth as a knife. More like a chainsaw. Keith bristled beside him, his ear ringing.

“Would have been here faster if you’d pick up your feet,” he growled irritably while rubbing at his ear. He began descending down the hill, his feet catching expertly on the dirt incline. He heard Lance stumble behind him as he followed.

“Give me a break. I’m dead tired,” Lance said from behind, and his level of exhaustion did echo in his voice. “It’s been a long day.”

“For you and me both,” Keith muttered to himself.

The remaining trek to the town was pleasantly short, as Lance seemed to have a boost of determination after catching sight of salvation, and so the kid kept pace. The town was just as quiet on the inside as the outside, most of the buildings dead with sleep. Lance decided to break the peace once more as soon as their feet hit asphalt.

“You didn’t mention that only like, ten people live here,” he grumbled, his gun clacking against his back as he shifted around to look at the town around them. “Nothing’s going to be open this late in a place like this.”

“Actually,” Keith began, twisting around to point at the road they were walking on, “this is a main road that leads to the interstate. The town was built around it. It gets enough traffic that there’s a couple places that operate through the night. I know there’s somewhere you can hole up for a while, like a hotel or something, if you want.”

“Ugh, then I have to spend _money,”_ he groaned, but sighed after. “Whatever. I can’t complain much at this point.” He was silent for a moment longer. “There wouldn’t happen to be a place open where I could get some food, would there?”

“Across town. There’s a gas station that’s open 24/7. It’s like a twenty-minute walk from here.”

“You come to this town often?”

“Not often, but, here and there. I sort of use it as my halfway point between home and where I go west. It’s a good place to pick up food I don’t normally get to eat in the desert.”

Lance barked out a laugh. “ _You?_ Buy food like a _civilized person?”_

Keith smirked in return. “I never said I buy it.”

Lance caught up just to throw a triumphant grin in Keith’s face, which Keith could see clearly out of the corner of his eye without having to turn and look. “Oh, ho, _ho._ Looks like I’m not the only one around with sticky fingers.”

“Like the scale I do it at can even compare to yours.”

That deflated Lance’s mood a little, and Keith turned to watch the kid’s eyes fall to the ground and his smile dissipate, his pace slowing until he fell in step behind Keith again.

“I’m not a crook,” he heard Lance mutter behind him. “Really, I’m not. It was an accident. Sure, I get detention here and there, and sometimes I drag my friends into it along with me, but I’ve never stolen anything in my life. I’m not a criminal.”

He wasn’t defending himself, Keith realized. He wasn’t defending his image or even trying to convince Keith. There was no fire in his words, only guilt. He said the words aloud for his own ears. He was trying to convince himself. Keith couldn’t resist feeling empathetic; that had been him, once upon a time, trying to make his case before another person but really only telling himself something he didn’t truly believe. It had been hard, and he had been lost. Just like Lance was now.

And he didn’t really know what to say.

“Have you thought about that maybe this isn’t the best idea?” Keith said, because it was the only thing that came to mind. Consolations were beyond him. “You know, the running away and hiding thing?”

“Of course I have. Being in the middle of a small, desert town miles from home kind of hammered it in a little harder. But once the Garrison finds out about the missing buggy . . . I don’t know. The idea seemed better yesterday, but. I don’t know.”

“It’s gonna look like you jacked the damn thing and took off. You’ll be on the run.”

“What would I tell them if I went back? That I hacked my way into the garages, was out past curfew, and got it stolen by the Galra?” Keith heard him scuff the ground with a huff behind him. “They’ll believe the first parts, but there’s no physical evidence that the last part happened. I just don’t know how to explain how an entire buggy could completely disappear without sounding insane.”

“I thought you said your friend hacked the garages.”

“Yeah, my buddy, Pidge. The tech god himself. But I couldn’t pull him into this; he’s got too much going for him. It’s not his fault I screwed up.” He sighed, his voice lowering. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter now. No turning back at this point.”

Silence descended on them again. Then Keith remembered the oasis. “There’s evidence of a firefight in the oasis. Half the place was burned down, and it’s covered in blast marks.”

“Ha, as if. They’ll sooner believe I went on an arson rampage and shot up the oasis with my rifle.”

Keith decided to drop the topic. At that point, it felt more like Lance was making excuses to cover his mistake of running away, and since the idiot couldn’t be convinced otherwise, it wasn’t worth pursuing. It wasn’t Keith’s problem anyways, and soon enough, the kid would be out of his hair for good.

The thought was only aided when the hotel’s neon sign came into view. “Look. There’s your hotel. No need to thank me.”

Lance eagerly jogged ahead until he could see the building. He stopped once it was in view, stared at it for a moment, then turned back to Keith with a scowl on his face.

“That’s a motel, not a hotel.” He didn’t sound so happy, and Keith crinkled his brow in confusion.

“What’s the difference?”

Lance pouted before stuffing his hands in his pockets and grumbling, “Hotels are usually nicer.”

They walked together to the place, arguing over the difference between motels and hotels. Keith couldn’t see the big deal; they both had rooms you paid for and included beds and bathrooms. Who cares if one’s outside and the other one’s inside? Lance’s fuss certainly made it sound like a life or death matter. Lance finally broke off with a brandished middle finger as he entered the building, to which Keith rolled his eyes at before leaning up against the wall outside the door, waiting.

 He decided it was best to stick around until he knew for sure Lance had a safe place to stay for the night, then he’d go find his own rest. His skin itched with the burning desire to shift. He idly kicked at the rifle lying next to his feet; Lance couldn’t bring the weapon into the motel, so he’d left it outside with him.

“I am going to sleep _so hard_ tonight!” Lance announced as he exited the lobby, twirling a room key on his finger by the keyring. “I had to hassle the guy at the desk because I didn’t call ahead, but whatever cause I am _set!”_ Keith watched him march right up, scoop up the rifle, then strut on by, a cocky smile on his face as he whirled around and saluted. “ _Hasta la_ later, hotshot. Have a good rest of your trip!”

Keith raised an eyebrow as he watched Lance parade away, a kick in his step and a confident sway to his hips. He couldn’t help but be astounded at how fast the kid’s mood could turn around. Like a switch.

“I’m too beat to start now after hauling your ass around all day,” Keith said in return, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I’ve got a date with a fat cat nap first.”

Lance suddenly stopped, his whole body freezing, and Keith watched curiously as the kid’s mirth left him in telltale signs; his shoulders drooped, his head lowered, and his limbs drew closer to his body.

And just like that, the switch was flipped again.

“Hey,” Lance said, his voice considerably softer than a moment before, and he slowly turned around to face Keith again. His eyes were elsewhere, though. “I know you said not to thank you, but . . . I really feel like I should.”

“You really don’t have to—”

“No, I want to. You’ve done a lot for me when you didn’t have to do anything.”

“You already thanked me this morning.”

“But that wasn’t enough.” Lance finally found enough courage to meet Keith’s eyes, and he smiled nervously. “Hey, what do you say to putting up with me for one more night?”

Keith narrowed his eyes, already disliking where it was heading. “What are you saying?”

“Stick around and I’ll let you take the bed.”

Keith’s jaw nearly dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Come on, man! It’s the best I can manage right now.” Lance walked back up to him and threw his arms out, the key jingling on his finger, and said, “Offering you the bed to the motel room I just purchased with my own money is the least I can do after everything. It’s not the ground, it’s not a rock, it’s not your nasty fucking couch. It’s a _bed._ Like, a real bed with a mattress and blankets and shit. When was the last time you slept in a bed?”

“And where are you gonna sleep?”

“These rooms always come with recliner or some sort of padded chair. I can just,” he shrugged, but Keith could hear the subtle mourning in his voice about losing the bed, “chill there. No big deal. I’ll probably pass out the moment I sit down anyway. So shut up and take your fat cat nap on the bed, asshole, so I can sleep with a clear conscience tonight.”

Keith considered him. Lance appeared very determined to give up his best chance for a good rest, which was honestly pretty laughable on a scale of self-sacrifice, but Keith had been around the kid long enough to know that it wasn’t an easy thing for him to give up, and that’s probably worth something. Considering the easy routine-life Lance lived, breaking it must have been difficult, and willingly rejecting potential comfort to fulfill a sense of gratitude must have been even more so. It was admirable, when put into perspective. A little silly, but a sweet gesture nonetheless.

And it had been years since Keith last slept in a proper bed.

“Alright. I’ll take the bed,” Keith announced after a moment, and Lance brightened immediately. “But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

Lance _pfft_ and waved a hand, “Whatever, hotshot. My good deed will be fulfilled after tonight and we’ll be even.”

“Yeah, sure.” Keith stepped away from the wall and stretched his arms above his head, turning away from Lance to hide the giddy smile that crossed his face. He pointed down the road and said, “Gas station’s that way if you want food. Just keep walking down the road.”

“And what are you gonna do?”

Excitement fluttered in his stomach at the question. A day’s worth of babysitting some whiny guy certainly made him restless. His veins were humming with energy and his muscles ached with a painful desire to stretch. _Oh, I’ll show you what I’m gonna do._

Heat burst in his chest, igniting his core, and his entire body warmed drastically as fire erupted in his veins, burning him from the inside out. His teeth elongated in his mouth, his skin expanded as his muscles grew, his spine stretched and lengthened, and his bones snapped satisfyingly into place. It was like itching a scratch he couldn’t reach, and it was over in an instant. He resisted roaring his contentment, not wanting to wake the whole town.

He blinked his eyes open, satisfied with finding the world much brighter than before. He flexed his fingers and toes, feeling his knuckles pop and listening to the sounds crack through the air, his ears twitching in response. He shifted his tail about to refamiliarize himself with it before twisting his upper body around, his spine popping along each vertebra as he did. He let loose a pleased growl once he’d finished his rotation, then focused back on Lance after he’d turned around completely.

The kid was staring up at him, jaw hanging open and eyes wide, frozen. Keith found it amusing how much smaller Lance was when he shifted, and he drew himself up to his full height before smirking down at him.

Lance shook his head before bursting into a series of stammers while waving his arms all over the place. _“Seriously?!_ Right _here?!”_ Lance whisper-shouted, his eyes nervously darting around at the surrounding buildings. “We’re in public! Someone’s gonna see you!”

Keith rolled his eyes—Lance might have forgotten it was the middle of the night, but _he_ certainly didn’t, and the town’s population was too small to worry about late-night wanderers, aside from anyone working late shifts. His only immediate concern was the clerk working the motel’s front desk, but he was standing far enough away from the lobby’s windows that he was safe.

He hadn’t been able to go lion all day, and he was gonna have his fun now.

Keith offered Lance a smug salute alongside a toothy grin before twisting around and taking off, his powerful limbs pumping as he carried himself away from the motel at an extraordinary speed. He heard Lance calling after him, but he didn’t turn around, instead embracing the cool, desert night air as it whipped him in the face. He kept off the main road and stuck to the shadows, darting behind houses and favoring backyards. It didn’t take long for the buildings to part and reveal the open desert, and Keith shot out onto the sand like a loose freight train.

He reveled in the feeling of running. His massive, padded fingers dug into the sand and pulled him onward, aided by his feet doing the same and throwing him forward in a constant cycle of barreling lion power. He huffed with the exertion as he ran, his veins humming with adrenaline and his muscles burning from a days’ worth of neglect. The stars dotted the night sky, brilliant speckles of white against a sheet of black that shone far above him, blanketed over the desert sands. _His_ desert. It all belonged to him, and he commandeered it.

He threw himself atop a hill and reared back on his legs before unleashing his pent-up energy in a powerful roar to the night sky, his voice echoing across the land in a declaration of what was his. His back arched with the ferocity of his cry, his fingers curling into fists and his limbs flexing, his entire body locked and strong and fierce. The roar continued even after he was spent, fading from his ears as it traveled through the desert air away from him, until all that was left was the silent sands once more.

Keith slowly lowered himself to the ground with a heavy sigh, the tension in his limbs loosing until he relaxed back onto his feet, his arms resting atop his knees as he crouched in the sand. He swiveled around until he could see the town behind him, the handful of lights insignificant against the vast desert surrounding them. He had managed to put a couple of miles between himself and the town, he noticed. Probably best since he had just finished screaming his lungs out at the universe.

He considered just taking off and leaving Lance’s offer behind—he still had fire burning in his veins that needed extinguishing, and it’d carry him a good distance before he collapsed from exhaustion. His eyes turned to the sky, to where the Galra were hiding among the stars, probably still looking for him. He had a job to accomplish, and he shouldn’t sleep on it, or he’d be in huge trouble. They’d _all_ be in huge trouble. If the Galra were here now, then that meant they knew. They were figuring it out, and it wouldn’t be long before the gig was up.

Despite the energy humming under his skin, he could feel the lingering exhaustion hanging heavy in his bones. He hadn’t slept in nearly two days, and it was weighing on him. He knew, even under the lion’s power, he wouldn’t get far, even if he started immediately. He also knew he’d make much more progress if he got proper rest rather than passing out somewhere in the desert after running himself to death. And Lance had offered him a real bed, after all.

Not to mention he was starving after traveling a full day without food.

Keith stood up, stretching his arms out and rolling his head from side to side to work out some lingering kinks from his transformation. He sighed through his nose, scratched the fur under his chin, and charged down the hill back in the direction of the town.

The gas station was dead of service, as it always was that time of night. It wasn’t exactly bustling during the day, either. Keith could smell Lance nearby and knew the kid must have finally wandered over to get something to eat. He couldn’t go into the store, though, not as a lion. He probably wouldn’t be welcomed as a human, either, so he ignored the idea entirely. Something smelled enticing and he followed it, rounding the corner of the gas station to where the store’s dumpster sat against the back wall. Whatever the smell was, it wasn’t rotten, and he figured it was from the days’ unsold hot foods. He threw the lid back and hopped onto the lip of the dumpster, the metal groaning under his weight, and began rifling through the wasted edibles.

“Oh my god.”

Keith glanced up from under his brow to spot Lance standing at the end of the wall, a small stack of gas station pizza boxes in his arm—his gun was missing so he likely left it back at the motel. Keith wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue in disgust at Lance’s choice of meal. Lance stared back at him, frowning deeply and looking as if he wanted to shout.

“Dude,” he snapped as he walked up to the dumpster and stopped next to it. Keith looked down on him as he seethed and rubbed his face, “You’re not a _dog._ If you ask nicely, I’ll just give you some of my pizza. Come on.” Keith recoiled back, lip curling at the thought of such greasy food sliding down his throat. “Buddy. Pal. You’re picking through a _dumpster,_ and you’re calling _this_ disgusting?”

Whatever was in the dumpster, it didn’t smell like old pizza, so Keith figured he was in the clear. He wished he could verbally express his contempt for the grease pit that was gas station pizza in a way that Lance could understand, but unfortunately, Lance was lion-impaired. He decided on a gesture that Lance could easily understand.

Keith pulled his hand out of the dumpster long enough to stick his middle finger up at Lance, who gasped in offense. “Yeah, okay. Have fun dumpster diving, you fucking mutt. I’m going back to the motel and taking a hot shower so I can finally be clean. You know what clean is, right?”

Keith found one of the foods that smelled so good and raised it out of the dumpster to where Lance could see, making a display of unwrapping the hamburger and opening his mouth before slowly lowering it in. Lance gagged and twisted around, stumbling away as Keith cackled.

“Room 28, buddy. Whenever you’re done slurping up trash,” Lance called back over his shoulder as he headed back down the road. Keith growled back his affirmation before resuming his dumpster excavation. As a hulking cat, he could consume vast amounts of food at one time, and since he hadn’t eaten all day, he guessed he’d be digging up gas station throw-aways for a while.

After his fill, and another desert excursion to burn off his remaining energy, Keith returned to the motel. He walked alongside the doors until he reached the one Lance had mentioned. He wrapped the pads of his large fingers and thumb around the door knob and twisted slowly, careful that he didn’t slip and scratch the door with his claws. The latch clicked and he swung the door open before ducking his head down and pushing inside.

Only to be immediately obstructed by a rowdy Lance.

“Oh, no. No way, pal. No lions allowed. You’re not coming in until you lose some weight, hotshot,” Lance declared as he shoved his hand against Keith’s nose and forced him back, pulling an annoyed growl from Keith’s throat at the sudden obtrusive contact. He snorted, hoping the gesture would prompt Lance to remove his hand, but he didn’t pay it any attention. Lance’s hair was still dripping from the shower he’d taken recently, droplets darkening the collar of his shirt as they fell. Keith could smell the motel’s shampoo wafting off of him, the smell assaulting his nose and making the insides sting. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Keith tried fighting Lance’s resistance, but the kid only ducked down and shoved his whole body against Keith’s chest, his bony shoulder stabbing into Keith’s sternum. “Strict no pets policy. Turn off the lion and you can come in. I’m not about to have you shedding all over the room I just paid for!” Lance grunted as he finally succeeded in forcing Keith back out into the night air.

Keith snarled in annoyance down at Lance, but the kid simply stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, eyebrow stubbornly raised. A pitiful barricade, but Keith didn’t try to force his way back in. Instead he huffed in resignation and released his lion form, the heat evaporating from his chest and the world darkening as his vision returned to normal. Weariness crept into his bones with the loss of the lion, as it always did when he changed. But now, the lack of excess energy made his looming exhaustion much more apparent. He was itching for a good nap.

“Fuck you,” he swore mildly at Lance, annoyed at having to change back against his own means, and also because he no longer towered over the kid. “I haven’t been able to shift all day because you’re such a baby. Give me a break.”

“You can go lion in the morning after you leave, but I am not about to explain to the guy at the front desk why red hair is all over the floor tomorrow.”

“Whatever. Move over, I’m tired,” Keith grumbled as he pushed his way past Lance, stepping into the room and looking around at the décor. It was sparse and simple, with only one picture hanging on the wall for the sake of some decoration. A box TV—who the hell still uses those these days?—was propped up on a small, mediocre entertainment center. A single bed sat in the middle of the room, the head of the frame tucked against the wall. A circular nightstand sat beside it, a generic lamp resting atop the table, and a recliner—Lance was right about that—was tucked in the corner of the room by the window. A single door was set into the opposite wall from Keith, and he assumed it must lead into the bathroom.

Keith immediately headed to the bed and threw himself on it, rolling onto his back and spreading his arms out across the comforter, closing his eyes and relishing how his body sunk into the mattress. He had forgotten what it was like to sleep in a bed. The pillows supported his head at a comfortable angle, the comforter cradling his limbs and body and warming his skin. He had never been picky about where he slept, but . . . it definitely beat his couch at home.

“You look comfortable.”

Keith opened his eyes to find Lance standing at the bedside, looking quite envious of his situation. He stretched his arms out before drawing them up behind his head, smirking up at Lance. “You can still change your mind.” If he were being honest with himself, he really hoped the kid didn’t.

Lance’s lip curled but he didn’t object. He shook his head and made his way to the recliner before plopping down in its seat. He fiddled with the lever for a moment before the foot rest sprung out and nearly threw him backwards, and after he recovered, he curled up into the cushions, sighing contentedly. Keith had to admit, it didn’t look terribly uncomfortable being in the chair, and he was glad Lance wouldn’t have to bear another night of sleeping on poor furniture.

“Aren’t you going to tuck yourself in?”

Keith rolled his head over to raise an eyebrow at Lance. “What?”

“The sheets? You going to get in the bed?”

“Nope. I’m perfectly fine right here.” And it was true; Keith felt just fine on top of the covers. He assumed he’d get too hot too quickly if he were under them.

He heard Lance scoff. “Yeah, I give you the bed and you don’t even use it to its full potential. Nice.”

Keith ignored him and swiped at the lamp, managing to find the switch after a few attempts. He gave Lance a look of warning, to which Lance waved his hand in return, and threw the room into darkness. Or, at least, as dark as it could get for him—he could still see the room pretty clearly.

He turned on his side and he grabbed one of the extra pillows before drawing it in and curling his limbs around him, enjoying the soft fabric as it cooled his skin. He was asleep in minutes.  


* * *

  
Keith awoke early the next morning, just after dawn. Later than he usually did, but definitely earlier than Lance, who still slept sprawled out in the recliner. With a healthy handful of sleep hours tucked under his belt now, he reluctantly moved off the bed—his muscles felt unusually heavy from relaxing that hard—stretched out his arms and back and headed toward the door to leave. He figured he wasted enough time and it was time to go. No need for formal goodbyes, Lance would likely wake up thrilled to see he was gone.

And as he was passing Lance he noticed the kid’s phone lying on the bedside table next to the lamp, its orange screen darkened with inactivity. He remembered Lance whining about his phone being dead and wanting to buy a charger, and the kid had probably been so tired he forgot to get one while at the gas station. So, it was still dead, then. Keith figured that Lance would need an operating phone, and he figured some light exercise would wake his body up after sleeping in the soft bed. He lightly padded over the carpet, grabbed Lance’s wallet that was next to the phone, and pulled out what looked the closest to some kind of money card.

He left the room after that—of course Lance hadn’t locked the door, the kid had no goddamn common sense—and headed to the gas station. He did his best to remember how phone chargers worked—Lance’s phone looked like it took universal, so he grabbed one and hoped it would fit. The cashier gave him a few odd looks when he was checking out but didn’t comment on his appearance any. Keith returned to the motel with the new charger and reentered the room.

Lance wasn’t in the chair anymore, Keith noted, but he could hear Lance singing obnoxiously loud in the shower. So, he was awake, then. And he still hadn’t bothered locking the door.

Keith swung the door shut with a sigh before walking back over to the nightstand where the dead phone lay. He picked it up and turned it over, locating the charger slot and inserting the cord into the port—pleased to see it fit—before plugging the opposite end into the outlet. The screen immediately began glowing with a charging feed. Keith dropped the phone back onto the table and kicked back on the bed, sighing contentedly as the mattress swallowed him up once more.

He probably shouldn’t be lying on the bed again, as it lulled him too far into a state of laziness, but it was just so damn _comfortable._ Keith happily stretched out across the comforter, feeling his spine pop as he arched his back off the bed before settling back into his Keith-shaped indentation. He pressed his head harder into the pillow until the thing was practically threatening to consume him, his ears obstructed on both sides by the material. He stretched both arms into the air before lacing his fingers together and popping his knuckles, then lowering his linked hands behind his head and resting them beneath his neck for support.

He could die like that, and happily too. He hadn’t laid on anything that soft since it rained in the oasis and he fell into a patch of mud. For once, his bones were settled comfortably in his skin, his muscles felt loose, and he didn’t have any desire to get up and burn energy. Such tame contentment was not something he was used to.

He wished he could take the bed. Or take _a_ bed. The old couch he slept on at home wasn’t bad, but it had grown stiff over time. Going back to it was going to be tough after sleeping in a real bed for the first time in years. He decided he might as well just enjoy the time he had left with the mattress before he had to officially part with it. He exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, focusing on his body being cradled by the softness.

Then he heard the shower stop. Listened to Lance enthusiastically talk himself through drying himself before he resumed his singing. Heard the door click and then swing open, followed by that awful smell of soap again. Keith opened his eyes and glanced toward the light streaming from the door.

Lance sauntered around the corner, an easy smile on his face as he sang a verse, then shrieked and recoiled upon noticing Keith. His hands flew to the towel around his waist to secure it after it threatened to fall off from his sudden movement. Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Dude! What the hell?! I thought you were gone!” Lance snapped as he readjusted his towel, water still dripping from his hair. Keith was surprised the kid hadn’t destroyed his hair with the amount of times he assumed Lance showers.

Keith pointed at the nightstand next to him, and Lance’s eyes followed. “You forgot to buy a phone charger last night. I went out and got one for you.”

He then held up Lance’s card for him to see, and Lance stared back, mouth agape.  “Did you--?” he choked, then blinked and found his voice again, “did you take my card out of my wallet?” Keith nodded patiently, and Lance’s brow crinkled in anger. “Come on, Keith! I’m not made of money!”

“You were gonna buy one anyway, right?”

“Okay, but it’s different when _I’m_ the one paying for it versus the guy who up and jacked my card out of my wallet. How’d the store people even let you buy anything with how you look?”

“I was a customer with money. They didn’t care.”

“Yeah, _my_ money. How’d you even know what charger to buy? Don’t you live the simple life?”

“I know what technology is, Lance. I used to own a phone.”

Lance huffed and spun around before retreating back into the bathroom. “Whatever. I’m gonna get dressed. At least you plugged it in already.”

Keith smirked to himself as he heard the bathroom door click shut, smiling up at the ceiling as he relaxed back into the bed.

He was looking forward to having peace again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll try to get chapter 6 up in the next few days; i've already got part of it done and i can tell it's going to be a long one. my friends got me playing fortnite last thursday lmao and it's a fun game but i've already promised myself not to let it get in the way of being productive on this story (been playing for only three days and my buddy and i already got victory royale in duos cause we're cool Gamers B) B) B) ).
> 
> i'm not even kidding i render each image depending on how i'm feeling at the time so this story's gonna be a mess of a million different rendering styles


	6. Welcome to the Gun Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance takes matters into his own hands. Keith sets a lot of shit on fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i wanted to get this out way earlier this week but i shit you not i've been working at this chapter non-stop since last sunday. this chapter marks my "the boring build-up's out of the way now i get to have fun with this fucking story" so i went a little overboard with length. you can tell i'm an amateur writer cause i have zero control over my word count lol. i can mostly blame the images for making me take a year to upload because i was too pumped with this chapter so the second i opened photoshop my grave was dug. on the other hand, i'm super happy with how the images turned out. they were really fun. by the way totally formatting the images to be smaller cause i think they're way too big for viewing pleasure so let me know if this new size is better.
> 
> anyway here's a 10,000 word chapter

Keith’s departure in the morning was rather unceremonious.

He was polite enough to stick around while Lance checked out of the motel, though Lance couldn’t for the life of him fathom why Keith would bother prolonging his company. At least he was there to watch Lance’s gun while he was in the lobby, for which he was appreciative—not that he’d mention it out loud.

Keith had then announced the direction he was heading, and Lance saw him off. They mumbled their half-hearted goodbyes and Keith wandered out into the desert toward the flatter horizon, unable to switch into a lion during the day until he was out of sight of the town. Lance had watched Keith grow smaller with distance, the boy never once looking back, barefoot in the hot sand with much skin exposed to the sun.

Lance wondered if the lion gave Keith any immunity to environmental hazards or if he was just a masochistic idiot. Oh well, wasn’t his problem anymore.

He found himself soon wandering the town, contemplating his next move. He’d definitely be sucking his bank account dry in a short amount of time by being on his own like this, so he had to figure out a smart system to keep himself on his feet for as long as possible.

The idea of being alone scared him a little, especially after Keith left. Company had always spoiled him: he grew up in a large family; never had any trouble picking up friends at school; had his flight team at the Garrison, Hunk and Pidge; and then, when he thought he was alone for the first time, he had Keith.

Now he was truly alone. Not having at least some person to converse with made him feel lost, and he realized he was unable to make up his mind without a second opinion. Fearing a loop of second-guessing himself, he holed up at the gas station, sitting tucked into the store’s corner in one of the few dining tables the place had set out for hungry loiterers (and even managing to sneak his rifle in, which now sat tucked beneath his discarded jacket by his feet on the floor). He needed advice, and more importantly, he needed someone to talk to. He turned on his now-fully charged phone and opened his recent messages, scrolling through the previous days’ worth of Hunk filler messages clogging up his feed until he found one recent message from Pidge.

 

P: hey you alive rn

_ Received at 9:14am _

 

The message had been sent only twenty minutes ago, so Pidge was probably still available.

 

L: You up for video chat?

_ Sent at 9:34am _

 

Pidge, as fused to his phone as he was, was predictably quick with his response.

 

P: yeah i got you

_ Received at 9:34am _

 

A second later, a prompt appeared on Lance’s phone screen requesting permission for video chat, and he accepted it. Pidge’s scowling face replaced it a second later. He looked tired, and he did not look happy.

“You’re up astonishingly early,” Pidge muttered, his voice slightly lagging behind the video due to poor connection—damn desert town and its shitty location. Hadn’t the world moved past the inconvenience of bad cell service in rural areas? Whatever. No system was perfect, Lance guessed.

“It’s only like, 9:00,” Lance said.

“Don’t pretend like it’s not unusual for your day to start any earlier than 2:00 in the afternoon. Where are you, anyway?”

“A gas station in the middle of nowhere.”

“A gas sta— How? You said you didn’t have the buggy; did you walk all that way? I thought the Garrison’s territory was massive.”

“Oh believe me, it _is.”_

“So how did you make it that far without dying?”

Lance grinned. “You’re talking to a master of survival. All those stupid early-access survival games you made me play prepared me for this moment.”

Pidge frowned further, his mouth pressing into a tight line. “What are you doing?”

“I told you, chilling at a gas sta—”

“No, like, _what_ are you doing?” Pidge repeated, harsher this time, voice strained. He sounded like he was holding himself back from shouting. “You left the Garrison in the middle of the night and promised to come back, but you didn’t come back. You didn’t respond to Hunk or me until yesterday, and you were super vague about everything. You apparently fucking _walked_ across the Nevada desert until you wound up at some random gas station, and you didn’t respond to any of Hunk’s texts from last night. _I_ had to text _you_ first to get you to talk to me, Lance. Do you have _any_ idea about the shit I’ve been doing to cover for you?”

Lance leaned forward in his chair, his shoulders hunching up by his ears as Pidge scolded him. “Uh,” he began sheepishly, “faking the logs in the engineers’ system?”

Pidge huffed. “Yes. And not only that, I’ve had to get Hunk—he’ll be out of class shortly by the way—I had to get him to tinker with the electrical systems in the garages so the engineers would _hopefully_ be too preoccupied fixing the lights to notice one of the buggies missing for so long. _And_ I had to forge an official medical statement claiming you’ve been sick these past two days to cover for your absence in class.”

“Oh, no. Did the professors notice me missing, then?”

“You’d be surprised how much quieter it is in class without you. It’s pretty obvious.” Pidge leaned forward on his own table similarly to Lance, his phone propped up and angled so that he was hands-free. He rubbed at his eyes under his glasses before readjusting them back into place, then sighed heavily. “We’re worried sick, Lance. Hunk and I have hardly gotten any sleep these past couple of nights because of your radio silence. We’re working our butts off to keep you off administration’s radar, and we’re past breaking the law to do it. We can’t keep this up forever.

“So, Lance, what the hell are you _doing?”_

Lance sat, stunned, taken aback and staring at Pidge through his phone. The past two days had been traumatic blurs, abruptly yanking him out of his comfortable routine and tossing him headfirst into a situation he hadn’t been prepared to deal with. His mind hadn’t stopped spinning in circles since the moment he’d seen Galra sentries roaming around in the Garrison’s desert, and every single decision he’d made since had been on disoriented impulse. Because he was scared. He had never taken the time to think ahead, to plan out a course of action, to even consider what it was he was _doing._

What _was_ he doing?

Running away from the Garrison, because he had made a terrible mistake. And now he was lost, alone, and more afraid than before.

“I don’t _know_ what I’m doing, Pidge,” Lance confessed, dropping his face into his hands with a frustrated groan. “I messed up. I really, _really_ messed up.”

He dropped to the table and buried his face in his arms, feeling like an idiot. It hadn’t even felt like an amazing idea to begin with, but now it just felt insane. Was he really going to go through with this? Would going back to the Garrison even be that bad? He just couldn’t weigh all the consequences well enough.

“What happened, Lance?” Pidge’s voice had softened, and when Lance glanced up he could see the anger gone from Pidge’s eyes. Only weariness and concern remained. It only made his guilt heavier.

How bad of a friend was he to let his friends go on worrying about him like that? He’d been too busy worrying about his own hide for the past couple of days that he hadn’t bothered to consider the toll it was taking on his crew. His decision to run just kept feeling worse and worse.

Lance sighed mournfully. “Okay. Here’s the gist of it.”

He told Pidge everything, starting with the Galra landing at the oasis. That point quickly turned into a massive tangent once Pidge got excited at the news. The kid had always been obsessed with the Galra for as long as Lance had known him, going so far as to build his own equipment to monitor their communication channels. Lance had always assumed the kid was just some paranoid alien fanatic with a fear of invasion, but the smile on his face right then said otherwise.

“Did they try to kidnap you?” Pidge suddenly blurted, causing Lance to pause mid-sentence before frowning. Where had that come from?

“What? Why would they try to kidnap me?”

“Well, you know, like . . .” Pidge trailed off while gesturing with his hand, “textbook alien invasion stuff. Abduction and probing and all that. Obligatory question.”

“Uh, no, Pidge. They were too busy shooting at me to bother abducting me.”

“They _shot_ at you?”

“Okay! We’re getting off-topic! Back to my problem!” And Lance returned to recapping the last day and two nights after easing Pidge back into his chair after he’d bolted out of it. He explained that the buggy was stolen by the Galra and that they’d disappeared after that. He described the misery that was the walk through the desert, and the climb over the divide. He complained about the lack of overnight service in the small town he was in with his only source of a meal being gas station food, then ranted on about motel prices. He was certain to mention his phone dying to excuse his negligence of keeping in touch.

He made a point not to mention Keith at all. For one thing, hanging around with a stranger all day probably wasn’t the smartest thing to admit to concerned friends. Not only that but mentioning a stranger at all would incite questions regarding him, and Lance was not about to delve into that hole. Keith was too much of a wild variable, and as helpful as he’d been, trying to explain his situation, his knowing, and his abilities would be too much information for Lance’s friends to sift through. He was looking for advice, not curiosity and a million questions.

Not to mention there’s just no way he’d be able to explain the whole fire-breathing lion thing.

At some point during his recap, Hunk had returned from his class and settled behind Pidge to get filled in on what he’d missed. As expected, his reaction to the Galra interference was a lot less enthusiastic than Pidge’s.

“Buddy, I know you’re worried about a punishment for taking the buggy, but this is a bit bigger than that!” Hunk exclaimed after Lance had finished. “You’re scared of expulsion, yeah? Well, I think your safety is a bit higher in priority.”

“Hunk’s right, Lance,” Pidge said, then added, “this isn’t about a theft anymore. You said the Galra shot at you, unprovoked. That’s a clear declaration of hostility. If the Galra are being openly-hostile toward humans, then Earth could be in danger. You need to come back—if not to correct your ridiculously-irrational decision to run away like a brainless monkey, then to at least tell the Garrison about what happened at the Hotspot. They need to know what’s happening.”

“Shit. You guys are right. Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. God, I’m so _stupid!”_ Lance groaned while fisting his hair.

“Woah, buddy, you’re not stupid!” Hunk quickly jumped in with raised, pacifying hands. “You were scared! I wouldn’t blame you for messing up after getting dropped on by the Galra!”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, Lance,” Pidge drawled. “Nobody’s going to think badly of you for booking it after something that traumatic. I’d be scared shitless, too. Probably scared for the _correct_ reason, but—”

“Pidge,” Hunk scolded, and Pidge threw his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry. My point is, you’re definitely not stupid, Lance. It’s a lot of pressure. But you need to get back. I doubt the Garrison will even hold you accountable for losing the buggy after you got shot at by aliens. Especially when they’ll have to focus on something this big.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll try to find a way back soon. Thanks, guys.” Lance smiled warmly down at his friends, their faces framed within the screen of his phone. The feed suddenly pixelated as the connection fell behind, chopping up the sound beyond intelligible.

“Fucking—” Lance swore under his breath as he waited for his service to catch up. The video recrystallized after a few more agonizing seconds. “Sorry, you cut out, Pidge. Connection sucks here. What’d you say?”

“I said Hunk and I can procure our _own_ buggy and come get you,” he repeated, grinning devilishly. Hunk smiled nervously in the background, apparently less thrilled with the idea but not voicing his objections.

“No,” Lance said with a shake of his head, “you guys have done enough for me already. I don’t want you breaking any more rules for my sake. You’re going to get into more trouble than me at this rate.”

“So, how are you going to get back then?” Hunk asked.

Lance shrugged. “I’ll find a way. Maybe I can hitchhike.”

“You’re gonna end up dead in a ditch,” Pidge said drily.

“You want me to walk again?”

“Then you’re gonna end up dead in the desert.”

“I survived the first time, didn’t I?’

“Only cause you got lucky the first time.”

“Do you still have your gun with you?” Hunk asked.

“Yup. Baby’s at my feet. Never leaves my side,” Lance responded smoothly, lightly nudging the weapon with his foot for good measure.

“Just make sure you’re careful with it around strangers. You don’t want to get murdered, but you also don’t want to scare—”

The feed split before cutting out entirely, leaving Lance staring, stunned, at a blank screen.

“Oh. My _God,”_ he seethed before slamming his phone on the table and crossing his arms in a huff. The gas station suddenly went dark, the telltale sound of a circuit popping resounding through the room. Lance glanced curiously at the ceiling where the lights had been lit a second before, hearing a confused grumble from the employee manning the counter somewhere behind a display of donuts.

Then the entire building shook as a thunderous boom rocked the town outside.

Lance was on his feet in an instant, rifle already in hand, his heart hammering in his chest. He stood frozen, his feet glued to the floor and his muscles locked, as the aftershocks of the rumbling faded until the world stood still again. Only once he was confident the ground was steady did he take a step.

Lance rounded the corner he was tucked in and looked out toward the gas station’s entrance, seeing massive dust clouds settle over the street just beyond the window panes. The man at the counter was staring outside as well, looking just as uneasy as Lance felt. Residents of the town filtered outside from their homes and the surrounding buildings, all surprised at the sudden disturbance. They all turned to face a single direction, and Lance could see panic overtake their expressions as they cowered and pointed.

Lance rushed outside, shoving his way past the glass door and out onto the street, a hot, vicious wind blowing against him that carried the dust over the town, his eyes following the direction everyone else was looking. He turned and peered down the main road, his eyes widening as he took in the sight, his pounding heart stuttering in his chest so suddenly he nearly choked from the feeling.

Just at the edge of town, directly on the main road, sat a massive alien ship, the thrusters still burning hot from its landing.

The Galra were back.

A section of the ship hissed before lowering, giving way to a ramp and dozens of marching sentries exiting the hold. Hysteric voices sounded all around him as the entire town watched an army step out onto the street of their home.

Fear paralyzed him to the spot, his hands trembling and his chest heaving and his eyes staring unseeingly at the ship before him, his mind forced somewhere else. Memories of the oasis flashed behind his eyes; the small shuttle that dropped an armed unit, the sentries shooting at him, that icy feeling of dread knowing he could be killed at any moment if he didn’t keep _running—_

His body went to auto-pilot and he was sprinting in the opposite direction before he was even aware his legs had begun moving. Panicked screams flew past his ears, mixed with the rush of wind, but he ignored them, their terror entirely drowned out by the volume of his own. Not again. Not again not again not _again._ Why were they _here?!_

It didn’t matter. He had to get out of there. He’d already nearly thrown his life away twice; once in the oasis when his curiosity had gotten him into deep trouble and the second when he had run away. But he had a job now, and the Garrison knowing was more important now than ever. He had to stay alive to warn everyone.

Or at least that’s what he kept repeating to himself to feel less pathetic for fleeing so quickly.

Lance finally risked a glance over his shoulder. He stumbled to a stop immediately, his breathing erratic as he watched Galra sentries threaten cowering groups of people with their weapons, shouting orders and forcing the residents to their knees. For a chilling moment, Lance feared the Galra were going to execute them on the spot. His breath escaped him in a relieved rush when the sentries beckoned the residents to their feet again before herding them toward the ship, their hands raised in the air under the aim of countless blasters.

Pidge had mentioned abductions. No, that wasn’t the word he used. Kidnappings? Lance supposed the words meant the same thing, but . . . Pidge hadn’t lead with abduction for a reason. There had been a particular eagerness about the way he said it, like there was something personally tailored to his choice of wording that fit the Galra better than a classic alien abduction conspiracy. And the abruptness for which he had said it lead Lance to believe that Pidge had figured out more about the Galra than he was letting on.

And as Lance watched dozens of humans being lead into the Galra ship at gunpoint, he realized that whatever Pidge was aiming for, the kid very well might be onto something.

He couldn’t just stand there and allow an entire town to be kidnapped. The population was very small—maybe a few hundred? Probably not even that. It would not be difficult to round them all up. The Galra had shot at him for less reason; there was no telling what they might do to the humans onboard.

But he was just one guy. Even if he wanted to, how could he fight an entire army on his own? He noticed any signs in town that had been previously lit were now dead, making it clear to him that the entire town’s power had been knocked out upon their arrival. His phone service had also been cut, and that was probably true for everyone else nearby. He’d have no chance of getting backup.

He glanced down at his rifle, the once-pristine surface now sporting scratches from the hardships it had endured over the last two days. The weapon had served him well in the time he’d had it, always reliable in his grip and providing him with a hyper focus that few things could offer him. His hands, though normally busy with energy, always felt steady with the gun. His attention, normally all over the place, was pin-point in the sights. And his mind, normally a jumbled mess of wandering thinking, was harmonious as he took aim.

Whatever, he thought. They cut his face and made his life hell in a single night. He had a bone to pick.

His confidence soared as he pulled the trigger, the kick of the rifle a familiar punch to his shoulder, the pitched whine of the blast as the gun responded to his command, the shot soaring away from him before cutting through the helmet of a sentry in the next instant. The circuitry inside the sentry exploded in a shower of sparks, the dead husk of its body stumbling to the side before collapsing in a heap of metal at the feet of its comrades.

In the time it took for the other sentries to turn and locate him, he shot another one down. Lance couldn’t resist the giddy pull of his lips, his tongue between his teeth as he brought down another one as they took aim to retaliate. He was confident in his skill. He always had been. It was the one thing he was truly consistent at.

He took off running, fast enough that the sentries had trouble leading their shots, and he brought his rifle up and fired a quick shot through his scope to down another as he went, hitting it near square in the chest. He took cover behind a car, listening to the Galra blast the front of the hull as he safely recharged his rifle in preparation for a full counter-barrage.

Lance didn’t have numbers, but he had range.

He peeked around the car and killed another. Then another. And another. The sentries weren’t accurate enough from where they stood, and so Lance picked them off with ease, knowing the chances of them hitting him in time were slim. He dropped to his stomach and aimed from beneath the car before shooting out a leg. He shot the sentry’s head once it’d collapsed to its knees.

Lance killed the final sentry surrounding a large family before jumping to his feet and waving his hand around screaming, _“Run! I’ll keep them busy!”_ The people hesitated, likely out of fear, but Lance shot another sentry as it ran up and that seemed to convince them. They darted between the buildings, and Lance had no idea if there was any real chance of escape in this small desert town, but hopefully them being out of sight would lessen the danger they were in.

He worked at freeing other groups, dispatching guarding sentries as quickly as he could. He used the environment to his advantage, sprinting behind cars and buildings and mailboxes and trashcans to keep himself at range. He was beginning to tire out, sweat running into his eyes and his hands beginning to shake from exertion, the weapon uncomfortably hot in his grip from lack of a proper cooldown. He took aim at a sentry and missed, and he swore loudly.

“Dammit!” he shouted angrily, ducking back behind his cover to allow his rifle to recharge, a barrage of lasers assaulting the corner he had been peeking a second before. He could feel the muscles in his legs burning, his lungs aching with every breath. Of course he wouldn’t last forever—he was human, and he was fighting a battalion of robots. That icy fear that had gripped him in the oasis was returning, slowly spreading through his chest. He was beginning to believe he had a thing for suicide.

But he was too deep to stop now. He had freed some people already, and there were still some in need. He had to finish what he started, one way or another. He just had to change tactics.

Range was no longer his friend, so he had to close the distance to make shots easier. He was still faster than the hulking sentries, so all he had to do was remember where his advantages lay. He took a deep, controlled breath, released it, then darted back out into the open.

All attention immediately fell back on him and lasers were soon whizzing past once more. He kept low, allowing his momentum to balance his body, and he weaved around vehicles to avoid being blasted. A sentry caught his attention on his left and he shot from the hip out of panic, managing to land a hit in the sentry’s belly—a sloppy shot, but it had weakened the damn thing. He finished it off by properly aiming and blasting its chest.

There was only one remaining sentry that stood guard by the last group. Some of the people were brave and started sprinting away as the sentry focused on Lance, but others remained frozen on their knees. Lance charged head-on at the sentry, his aim guesswork as he brought his rifle around. He shot once, blowing off a piece of its pelvis, and the sentry staggered but didn’t stop firing. He shot again, desperation taking over, and he landed a shot in the chest, but it was wide and didn’t do the damage he needed.

Lance roared a battle cry as he shot a third time from the hip, the blast bursting dead center through its visor, extinguishing the pink glow and blowing its head clean off. The sentry continued firing in death, its finger stuck on the trigger, and its aim went wild as its body tumbled backward.

A single stray shot grazed his leg, the blast cutting through his pants and burning along his skin, tearing an agonized howl from his throat as pain shot up his leg. He stumbled, tripping over his own feet, and he crashed to the asphalt from a full sprint, his bones smacking against the road and his skin shredding from the rough surface as his momentum carried him. His rifle flew from his hands, out of his reach.

He lay there on his belly in painful silence, eyes screwed shut, his body stinging and aching and his leg burning like fire. His head pounded from the fall, and he could feel blood trickling down his face. He coughed, once, and his chest screamed in protest, and he resigned himself to never cough again.

He waited for the killing blow to come. A million sentries had been firing on him a second ago, after all. But beyond the ringing in his ears, he couldn’t hear any shots being fired. It was like the whole world stopped along with him.

“You certainly caused a bit of trouble, kid.”

Lance forced his eyes open, the world suddenly too bright for him, and he gingerly lifted his head to see who was speaking. In front of him, a few feet away, he saw a pair of armored boots standing directly next to his rifle. He let his eyes wander upward until he’d taken in the full form of the Galra man—the first living Galra he’d seen. The alien’s entire body was armored save for his head, a variation of the pink insignia decorating his uniform to declare his rank. The man himself looked as if a fish had found its way into his ancestry somewhere along the line, with patches of scales covering cool skin, and webbed ears protruding from the sides of his head. Not quite what Lance had pictured Galra to look like. The alien’s sunken eyes, yellow and sickly-looking, were filled with amusement.

“Was it worth playing the hero?” he asked, his lipless smile revealing rows of triangular teeth that had more business being in a shark. It took Lance a moment to process the question, still dazed from his collision with the asphalt, but he tried matching the smile to cover his fear.

“I got my shots in,” he answered, words thick from a cut lip. The man grinned wolfishly down at him, unperturbed with the robotic carnage that surrounded them.

“And yet, you accomplished very little,” the man sneered, making a point of kicking Lance’s rifle away once his eyes had fallen back to it. Lance watched the weapon clatter away, his last remaining shreds of hope evaporating into the air. Sentries surrounded him, every single gun trained on his head, and he watched helplessly as one of them picked up his rifle.

“Congratulations on destroying all those robots. There’ll be less clutter on the ship now.”

Lance watched wearily as the man’s boots slowly retreated, his stomach full of dread. He had had his last chance and he blew it. Now, it was over.

The man paused long enough to bark out an order, “Load him onto the ship with the others. He’ll be no trouble without his weapon.” Lance’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. Okay, that was hardly a step above being shot dead by a bunch of robots. He was still unable to warn the Garrison about the Galra, and now he’d be a prisoner in space probably.

Wow, he really messed up this time. His brilliant ideas just kept stacking higher.

“Let’s make boarding quick,” he heard the man’s receding voice call out. “There’s no signs of the lion blood here. We need to make haste if we’re to track the next surge.”

So they really were looking for Keith. Tracking him somehow. No wonder they landed in town, Lance thought as he was hauled to his feet, wincing as his injuries were jostled. It was probably for the best that they just missed him, though Lance really wished he had some of that handy lion fire right about then.

The sentries lead him at gunpoint behind the group of people he had nearly liberated, who were also being herded toward the ship. His mood sunk further upon realizing he was unsuccessful in freeing them. Being only one person, he was quick to catch up with the trudging group despite the slight limp he now sported, and he was filtered in with the rest of them. He averted his eyes, unable to look the ones he failed in the face.

“That was a courageous thing you did.”

Lance suddenly glanced up, startled to hear one of the people speak to him. A few were looking over at him, and one elderly man was smiling warmly despite the uncertainty in his eyes.

“You’re a pretty good shot with that gun of yours, son,” he said, his voice rough and airy with age. “You really showed them your mettle.”

“Don’t encourage the kid,” another hissed at the old man, eyeing the sentries warily. “He could have gotten away if he hadn’t been so set on helping us. That was suicide,” he said, now looking at Lance.

Lance gave a half-hearted shrug, finding more truth in the man’s words than anything. “You’re right. It was a bad decision. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions that got me where I am right now. I’m a student at the Galaxy Garrison—I should have been more focused on getting back to them and warning them about the Galra.”

“I thought the Garrison declared the Galra a passive race a couple of years ago,” a lady said.

“I thought so too, but. I don’t know. I guess they were wrong.” A shadow fell over them and Lance looked up in time to see the hull of the ship blot out the sun as they stepped onto the ramp. “I don’t know.”

The march was silent thereon, everyone stricken into silence as the dark interior of the ship enveloped them. The inside was cold with circulating air, a drastic contrast from the stuffy heat of the desert. The Galra insignia glowed along the walls, embedded into the angular beams and doors, pink against a deep purple. It was difficult to see inside the dim ship after having been in the bright sun for so long prior.

They were led through a door and down a corridor before being brought into another hold, several dozen more humans already present. The Galra really were rounding up the entire town, Lance thought bitterly.

“Is that the last of them?” another Galra man asked, his face covered with short, purple fur and his yellow eyes pupil-less, features entirely different than the first Galra man. Must be a diverse race, Lance thought absently. The Galra’s uniform was far less decorated than the first’s—he must be lower rank.

“Negative. Several remaining subjects are still being subdued,” a sentry answered in its awful mechanical voice, the static unkind to Lance’s ears.

“For star’s sake, what’s taking so long?” the Galra growled, frowning impatiently. “I’d like to get these aliens packed away in the cells before this damn planet’s day ends. For the amount of sentries we dispatched to wrangle only a few hundred, we should be well underway by now—"

An explosion rocked the ship, interrupting the man as he stumbled. Lance’s heartbeat picked up as he steadied himself, his arms spread wide for balance. The humans in the room spoke to one another in rapid whispers, all disturbed by the sudden commotion. The sentries were the only ones not affected by the rattling.

“What the hell was that?” the Galra demanded. Heavy sounds followed his question, resounding from the corridor they had exited from. Lance twisted around to watch the door, feeling the floor shake beneath his feet with every pound. Would it be a mistake to hope . . .?

And then the door was thrown off its hinges as a furious mass of red fur came barreling from the corridor, roaring with so much rage that Lance could feel the vibrations in his bones.

Every human in the room, save for Lance, screamed in terror and scattered, trying to evade the lion as he tore through the room like a beast gone mad, crushing and biting every sentry that was unfortunate enough to be in his way. Any sentry outside of his path of destruction open fired on him, but he didn’t even flinch as blasts buried into his skin and singed his fur.

It didn’t take long for him to dispose of the sentries, but once he was done, his clothes were riddled with laser holes. He made a point of marching up to the trembling Galra man and batting him away with his arm, slamming the man into the opposite wall where he crumpled to the floor. He dusted his hands—or paws, whatever—off, huffing with satisfaction at having cleared the room. His massive head turned, his burning eyes immediately falling to Lance.

Lance couldn’t even contain how thrilled he was to see the monstrous lion. “Keith! Holy shit am I glad to see you!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, charging at the beast before throwing himself into Keith’s midsection and wrapping his arms around him as much as he could. Keith made an irritable sound before peeling Lance off, then dropped his rifle right into his open hands. Lance pumped his fist into the air with an eager shout, delighted to be reunited with his gun.

“Buddy, your timing is always something else! I mean, you’re always late, but better late than never, am I right!” He beamed up at Keith even as the lion snorted his objection, lip curling to flash his teeth. “Alright but have to admit showing up a few minutes sooner would save me a lot of trouble.”

Keith whipped his head to the side with a huff, likely in place of rolling his eyes, before grabbing Lance’s jacket and dragging him along as he marched back to the door.

“Okay, woah, easy. Don’t tear my jacket. It’s my favorite.”

Keith suddenly halted, forcing Lance to pause too, and took in the mass of people staring up at him with faces contorted in horror. Lance shook his way out of Keith’s grip and stepped forward with his hands raised to mollify the anxious crowd.

“Don’t worry, he’s my friend—”

“What the hell is that thing?” someone demanded. Lance frowned at being interrupted.

“He’s on our side. He hates the Galra as much as the next guy. Maybe more,” Lance explained drily, patting Keith’s side for emphasis. His hand was batted away by an ornery paw. “Anyway, why do you guys care? He just destroyed all the sentries. You can leave now. So, go.”

Most of the people didn’t waste a second, taking Lance for his word and bolting through the open doorway that lead back into the corridor. Some hesitated, however, continuing to curiously stare up at Keith, who flattened his ears unhappily at the attention. He snorted before barking a growl, prompting the remaining to flee out of intimidation. Lance chuckled.

“Not a bad crowd,” he said. His smile disappeared when Keith began shoving him again. “Hey, could you cool it for a second? We gotta figure out where they put the others—”

Keith cut him off by belting out an argument, his head twisting back and forth negatively, his pushing more insistent. Lance broke away from the lion’s invasive hands and stepped out of his reach before glaring up at him.

“Stop pushing me and listen to me, Keith!” Lance snapped, making the lion pause. He twisted around to point at the corridor. “Those were only some of the people they captured. There’s more on board. We gotta go find—”

Lance lost his train of thought when he turned back around and was met with empty air where the lion’s beastly face had been only a second ago. His eyes fell lower, finding human eyes glaring back at him, set into a scowling face

“That’s really fucking freaky how fast you can do that—”

“And it’s really fucking annoying that I have to do it so you can understand me,” Keith cut him off with a growl. “I know they’re taking prisoners; I already destroyed all the sentries outside. But we don’t have _time,_ Lance. There’s too many soldiers on board, I can’t take them all at once. We have to _go.”_

Keith tried shoving past Lance, but Lance caught his arm. The boy whipped back around, eyes blazing, before tearing his arm out of Lance’s grasp.

“Would you stop touching me?!”

“Keith, I’m scared too—”

“I’m _not_ scared,” Keith snapped, his teeth sharp in his mouth as his lip curled. “Not of these clowns. But I know when I’m beat. I didn’t have to come back for you, so don’t make me regret it. We can’t afford to waste time.”

“But we can’t just leave them! Who knows what the Galra might do to them?”

Keith didn’t respond. His eyes grew distant as his mind went elsewhere before they darted away, his brow crinkling. The uneasy look that crossed his face set Lance on edge. Maybe Keith knew more than he let on.

“You didn’t have to come back for me,” Lance repeated, stepping in the direction of Keith’s eyes to try and draw his attention back to him, “but you did. You threw yourself back into the line of fire when you could have kept going. But you didn’t. So don’t try to convince me you don’t care enough to try.”

Keith glowered at him, his nose flaring, but he didn’t try to argue. Lance took that as his cue to keep pushing it further. He turned to point at the Galra man on the opposite side of the hold who was groaning faintly as he slowly pushed himself up from the floor.

“That guy said he was the one locking people up. He probably knows where they’re being held—”

Heat seared the side of his face and Lance flinched away as Keith suddenly hurled a ball of fire at the Galra, a terrified scream piercing Lance’s ears in the second before the man’s body was consumed in the explosive impact. Lance gaped, stunned, at the lingering flames that licked at the nearby containers, crackling as they consumed more fuel.

He whirled on Keith. “What the _fuck—”_

“I can smell where they took the others,” he said mildly, as if he hadn’t just charred an alien man in cold blood. “That’s how I found you so quickly. Just follow me.”

“You didn’t have to _kill_ the guy!”

“He would have killed you without a second thought. They’re _trying_ to kill _me._ I think I’m justified.” He turned on his heel and began walking in the opposite direction of the corridor, toward another door further down. Lance followed with some hesitation, glancing anxiously at the place in the flames where the Galra had been. He wondered if he should reconsider his reconsideration of whether Keith was dangerous or not.

The door hissed open automatically as it sensed Keith’s approach. He stopped and cocked his head slightly to the side as Lance caught up.

“I can hear voices down this hall. They’re probably in cells. Go down there and figure out how to free them.” He turned around just as Lance passed him, and Lance glanced back in confusion.

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna buy you some time,” he answered lowly. “I can hear reinforcements coming this way, and a lot of them. So hurry up.” He began walking back toward the middle of the room, his hands in tight fists by his side.

“Aren’t you gonna go lion?”

“No. I’m a smaller target like this.” His hands erupted into flames, the fire slowly crawling up his arms as he waited. Doors all around the hold hissed open, dozens of sentries pouring out and surrounding him and taking aim.

Lance didn’t stick around to watch. He bolted away from the door, the automatic system kicking in and shutting it just as the firing began. He tried to push the fighting behind him to the back of his mind, even as an explosion rocked the floor beneath his feet. He had to focus on this task.

The cells were at the end of the hall just as Keith had said. They were large doors, each sporting individual panels next to them that probably controlled the locks. Lance could hear frightened voices within, and it made him sick to think of how many were likely stuffed into the rooms.

He studied one of the panels, completely lost as he looked over the alien characters on the screen. There was no way he would be able to decipher it, and even if he could, he probably wasn’t authorized to access the cells.

“Well, this always works in movies, so . . .” he trailed off, settling his rifle into the crook of his arm as he took aim. He blasted the panel off, sparks flying from the destroyed wiring within, and his ears were rewarded with the sound of the cell door’s hydraulics activating.

He couldn’t believe that actually worked. He stepped back and watched as people hurriedly filtered out of the room, excitedly speaking to one another and thanking him.

“Okay. Everyone pay attention in case you don’t remember: down that hallway and in the hold, there’s a busted door that leads all the way back to the main hanger. You can get out through there,” Lance directed loudly to the crowd. He turned his attention to another panel, watching their backs as they milled down the hallway. He sure hoped Keith cleared the room fast enough. He shot out the rest of the panels, repeating his directions to each group as they exited the cells. Once he had determined the rest were empty, he jogged back down the hall, eager to reunite with Keith and leave.

“Keith, I got—” Lance paused, frowning as his eyes were unable to locate Keith anywhere among the carnage.

“I’m up here.”

Lance looked up, seeing Keith scaling the remains of a charred catwalk overhead. Several dismembered sentries hung from the railings by their wires, sparking and crackling. The entire room looked like a bomb had gone off; with burnt spots covering the walls; fire all over the place; and dead sentry parts littering the floor, their blackened bodies having been blasted apart.

Lance gave a low whistle. “You clean up nicely. Anyway, I think I got everyone.”

“Can we leave now?” Keith, himself, didn’t appear harmed, at least where Lance could see. He had faint trails of smoke curling off of his clothes and his shirt was little more than shreds, hanging off of only one shoulder. The severed fabric was blackened from being burned through. He sported an impatient scowl on his face, as if the fight was little more than an inconvenience to him. Lance couldn’t help smiling.

“Yeah. I’m heading back to the hanger now.”

“Good, I’m gonna—” He stopped, his head turning to look at something Lance couldn’t see, and he watched Keith curiously as he looked back around. “Actually, I’ll meet you there.”

“Where are you—” But Keith was already sprinting through a door on the upper levels, and Lance huffed as he was left alone once more. “Fine. Whatever. Big shot.”

He didn’t have the luxury of sitting around moping, so he hustled toward the entrance of the corridor, swearing to himself the entire way as the burn on his leg stung. Keith was as unpredictable as he was a hot head— _he_ was the one complaining about leaving as soon as possible, but he’s the one to want to take a detour? Good to have the guy back, Lance thought bitterly.

The ship shuddered around him as he headed down the corridor, muffled explosions reaching his ears through the walls. Whatever Keith was up to, he was certainly raising a lot of hell. He seemed to be doing just fine on his own despite his previous concerns about being so heavily outnumbered. Maybe because he was angry—the guy had been practically begging for a fight when Lance had gone to the cells.

Good. That’s one less thing to worry about.

Lance burst into the main hanger, his eyes searing from the intense light pouring in from the lowered ramp toward the rear, a sharp contrast to the rest of the ship’s darkened interior. He raised an arm to block the worst of it, but his eyes fell on something he never thought he’d see again.

He hadn’t been able to see it when he walked in with the crowd of people blocking his view, but settled in the back corner of the hanger sat the Garrison buggy, looking just as it had the night he lost it.

“No fucking way,” he breathed in disbelief, taking a determined step toward it. He flinched as his ears were suddenly blasted by the roaring of the ship’s engines from outside, dust scattering everywhere and flying into the hanger. He was suddenly thrown off balance as the ship rocked to the side, taking a hot minute before leveling itself out again.

Lance picked himself off the floor after having tripped over his feet during the upset. The ship was still rocking unsteadily, and he had to hard brace himself for every change in angle to avoid falling again. His eyes finally adjusted to the desert’s light, and panic filled his chest when he noticed the ground slowly falling away from the lowered ramp, the buggy already pushed to the back of his mind.

“Shit!” he swore, taking off in what was the fastest run he could manage with the shifting orientation of the ship’s floor. He stopped himself as close to the ramp’s edge as he dared, his mind racing as he determined if he should just jump or wait for Keith to catch up. It didn’t matter, because in the time it took for him to decide, the ship had risen to a height too high for him to safely jump out of.

Lance retreated from the ramp’s edge, uncertain with his situation and lost for a solution. He was pulled from his panicking thoughts as a door from the hanger’s upper level was blasted off its frame in an explosion of fire, and Lance watched the flying pieces bounce out into the desert. A shout recaptured his attention and he turned back in time to see a Galra—the first Galra from before—land painfully on his back nearby with a grunt, his face seared from heat and his armor blackened from burns. Keith landed on top of him a few seconds later, his legs framing the alien as he bent down and roughly shoved his palm over the Galra’s eyes, his grip visibly tight.

“How are you tracking me?” Keith demanded, his eyes constricted and his teeth sharp and his claws extended. He looked _angry._

The Galra coughed weakly beneath him, and when he spoke, his voice was painfully strained. “You damned animal—”

“Tell me how you’re tracking me or I’ll melt your _goddamn face off!”_

Lance took a step back, practically feeling the furious heat that radiated from Keith. It made him nervous, like the boy was an incendiary bomb that could explode if his temper hit just the right point. The lion hardly seemed scary compared to the raw, unbridled rage that he was capable of honing. It was like witnessing a weapon of mass-destruction throw a tantrum.

The Galra officer cried out in agony as Keith squeezed his fingers around his amphibious head, extended claws puncturing the skin with little resistance and allowing blood to run freely from the holes. The officer announced his agreement to comply by raising a trembling hand in submission. “T-The lion blood. It releases a surge of quintessant energy every time it’s activated, and we can detect that surge and triangulate its position.”

“Oh,” Keith responded flatly, his eyes rising until they met Lance’s. Lance felt like he should know what the Galra was talking about in reference to Keith but he had zero clue. He shrugged his lack of understanding and Keith pressed his lips into a tin line. “Good to know.”

The officer yelped as Keith’s fingers dug into his armor before twisting around and throwing him in the opposite direction with a forceful grunt. The door buckled beneath the officer’s body as he collided with it and they both disappeared into the smoke-filled corridor beyond.

Lance stared in shock at where the officer had disappeared, utterly stunned at Keith’s display of strength. Lance had already figured that the boy was above normal human strength because of the lion, but he had no way of knowing just how much. The guy had hardly any muscle mass—seeing him toss a seven-foot alien like a bag of sand was difficult to process.

“I’m blowing this damn place sky high, I swear to _God_ —” Lance heard Keith mutter under his breath as he began walking over, his mouth set into a tight line. He stopped before Lance and exhaled sharply through his nose. “I’m pissed,” he stated plainly.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Lance replied, his voice cracking just slightly to betray the uneasiness he was feeling. He tried to relax, reminding himself they were both on the same side and Keith was just having a bad day. “Also the ship’s taking off.”

“I know. I broke into the cockpit and locked the ship into a takeoff sequence. And I set the fuel reserves on fire so we need to hurry.”

“You _what?!”_ Lance cried in alarm. “While we’re still on the ship?! How do you even know how to pilot this thing?!”

“I didn’t. I just mashed controls until it began taking off and locked me out of the system. Now let’s _go,”_ he said with an insistent gesture of his hand toward the exit ramp. He didn’t wait for Lance to respond before making his way over to the opening, his tattered shirt flapping in the wind. Lance hurried after him, plagued with anxiety.

“Goddammit. I liked this shirt,” Lance somehow managed to hear Keith mutter to himself over the wind as he drew up beside him, the boy picking at the charred remains of the severed shoulder strip.

“Keith. I can’t make that jump.”

“I know,” he replied coolly, staring out at the ground as it drew further and further away. “But I can.”

“Wow. Good for you. That’s really helpful for—” Lance stopped his sarcasm as soon as his eyes fell on Keith’s outstretched hand. He glanced up, meeting Keith’s determined eyes, hard as stone in their resolve. Lance’s stomach dropped once the implication set in.

“No way.”

“Lance—”

“I can’t do it, Keith. I can’t. I can’t do it, this is fucking insane, and there’s _no_ way I can do it—”

“Just shut your mouth for once and trust me!” Keith snapped, and Lance quieted immediately. He stared at Keith nervously, stared at his offered hand hesitantly, and stared at the distancing ground uncertainly. His heart was beating against his chest like a hammer, his legs shaking as he calculated the fall in his head, completely unsure if his numbers even meant anything.

He glanced back to where the buggy was tucked into the hanger as an afterthought, then turned back to Keith and took a deep breath. He was dead either way—might as well give it a shot.

“You better not drop me,” Lance said as he grabbed Keith’s hand. Keith’s fingers were like iron around his.

“I won’t.”

Lance yelped as he was suddenly hauled up by his arm and swung around, grunting as he was released to collide with a wall of fur. His fingers tangled into the thick strands instinctually, legs bracing against hard flesh, locking himself against Keith’s back as the massive lion’s muscles coiled with tension beneath him. Lance had a split-second to note the absence of Keith’s shirt—the tattered thing having finally torn apart on transformation after the abuse it received on the ship—before Keith began charging down the ramp and throwing himself out into the desert air.

The good thing about Keith’s shirt being missing was that there was now a lot of fur to hold onto. The bad thing was no matter where Lance anchored his hands, nothing felt comfortable enough in a fucking freefall.

The distance from the ship to the ground was not significant, but the hangtime between the two made the fall feel a lot longer. Lance wanted to scream but he couldn’t push it out, the air resistance on his chest, despite Keith blocking most of it, too intense for him to manage any sound. He hung on to Keith for dear life, his teeth clenched so tightly he feared they’d shatter, his eyes stinging from the wind. Keith had his arms out spread-eagle to help slow their descent, his hulking form probably helping by creating a lot of drag, but Lance feared it wouldn’t be enough. He was afraid of being crushed on impact regardless.

Keith suddenly threw his arms forward beneath him and Lance felt the jerk as powerful streams of fire shot from his hands, the force countering their fall significantly. The ground below them exploded in clouds of smoke and dust, and Lance buried his face into Keith’s fur as he braced himself.

No amount of bracing could have prepared him for the landing. His skin burned painfully as they fell through the remaining fire, and despite Keith absorbing a lot of the shock with his limbs as he hit the ground, the impact was still horrendously jarring and Lance nearly lost his hold.

But it was over in an instant, and Keith shot out over the desert sand like a bullet, completely unfazed by the landing. Lance squinted against the dust and wind that whipped his face, blinking dazedly at the passing town while Keith barreled up the rocky inclines, leaving that entire nightmare behind.

Lance turned around and located the Galra ship still rising lazily into the air, unstable as it continued slowly careening from side to side. A moment later its midsection exploded in a brilliant ball of fire, honoring Keith’s promise to blow the damn thing “sky high.”

Lance suddenly couldn’t keep a grin off his face. They were alive. They survived the Galra. And they were speeding across the desert faster than Lance ever imagined Keith could go.

Lance declared their victory to the sky in a whooping shout, brave enough to pump both his fists into the air as Keith tore his way across the desert toward the awaiting horizon.

 

* * *

 

 

It was just past sundown when Keith finally gave out.

The journey had been arduous for Lance, but he had forced himself to quietly bear the rough ride for the sake of putting distance between them and the Galra. He had tightly hugged himself to Keith’s back for the majority of the trip for the sake of some comfort, though his injuries made it impossible. He was sore and aching and the constant up-and-down motion helped very little. Not to mention how hard Keith’s back was—Lance was pretty certain any chances of him having children in the future were compromised at that point.

So when Keith finally began slowing down, Lance couldn’t help but be a little conflicted.

“Hey, hotshot. What’s the holdup? Why are we slowing down?” he asked aloud, his voice rough from nearly a day’s worth of silence. He was inwardly grateful for the break in pace, but he also wanted to get as far away from that desert town as possible.

He was ignored as Keith trudged on, his shoulder blades rising rhythmically with each step—they were annoying and in the way and another reason Lance hated being the rider. Lance took a moment to gauge their surroundings, the moon giving off just enough light that he could make out the rocky desert ground transitioning into green, patches of foliage scattered around here and there. They were nearly out of the desert, and he had to commend Keith for his endurance.

But the lion man mentioned was currently swaying on his feet as he continued dragging himself forward at a snail’s pace, back expanding with every wheezing breath that he huffed. Lance leaned over to catch sight of Keith’s snout, and he was rewarded with the lovely sight of thick strands of saliva stringing from the lion’s teeth. Keith didn’t look like he was doing so hot.

“Hey, buddy, you good?” Lance called, patting his hand over Keith’s neck to try and pull a reaction out of him. The reaction he got was not what he wanted—Keith twisted his arm around and grabbed Lance before peeling him off and discarding him unceremoniously on the ground. Lance grunted painfully as he roughly hit the sand on his back, his sore body poorly prepared to deal with such crude handling.

“Was that really necessary?” Lance groaned from the ground, curling in on himself and hugging his stinging leg to his chest. He jumped when he heard a hefty _WHUMP!_ behind him a second later. He tilted his head back until he could see Keith’s prone form on the ground, upside-down from his orientation. The lion was panting hard, sand flying away from his mouth with every exhale, yellow eyes fluttering. He rolled over onto his back and stretched out, letting loose a deep, miserable moan that spoke volumes of his exhaustion.

“Yeah. Me too, buddy,” Lance said, and he was answered with a huffy grunt. “I guess that means it’s bedtime, then.” Keith didn’t answer him again, so Lance propped himself on his elbows and looked behind him at the massive beast splayed out in the sand. He shivered as the desert night chilled his skin, prompting him to sit up and hug his jacket tighter around his frame. Keith’s furry body suddenly seemed very enticing.

Lance crawled over to Keith, body heavy from the day’s excitement, before flopping against the lion’s midsection, reveling in the heat that radiated from his skin. Lance sighed happily and curled up against Keith’s fur, content with the softness of his belly.

Lance, with his ear pressed to Keith, could hear the low rumble that resounded from the lion, and the next thing he knew he was being insistently dragged away by padded fingers.

“Keith, come on, I’m freezing and you’re a walking furnace. Give me a break!” he protested as Keith shoved him aside, out of his personal space. Lance tumbled onto his side, blowing sand out of his face as he pushed himself back up. He tried again but Keith was expecting it this time, and a foot caught him in the chest and slid him back to where he started.

“Fine, whatever,” Lance sputtered as he batted the lion’s foot away, resigning himself to a cold night’s sleep. It’s not like it was the worst thing he had to experience all day. Still, he couldn’t help stubbornly crossing his legs and arms, fuming from the rejection. It wasn’t like it was _his_ fault he was only human; the least Keith could do was humor him a little.

Lance plopped down onto his back with a defeated sigh, staring wistfully up at the stars as the desert air cooled his frustration. With his anger dissipating, weariness fell over him, settling in his bones and anchoring him to where he lay. He supposed he wasn’t going back to the Garrison now. Not any time soon, anyway—his death wish made certain of that. Boy, he had some explaining to do to Pidge. He just hoped the Galra they had dealt with that day were the only ones that would ever cause them trouble.

As his eyes drifted from constellation to constellation, his mind drifted to the people from the town. He hoped they were all sleeping soundly in their own beds tonight, free from the terror the Galra had given them. He smiled upon remembering the kind words he had been offered following the shootout, and the multitude of thanks he had been given after he’d freed those already imprisoned. His chest warmed with pride, and suddenly it didn’t feel too cold anymore.

“Hey,” Lance said to Keith, voice directed to the sky. “We made a pretty good team, didn’t we?”

His ears were answered with silence and Keith’s loud, even breathing.

“Really showed them who’s boss, huh?”

Again, Keith didn’t respond, likely already asleep if his soft snoring was any indicator, and Lance couldn’t help smiling to himself as he drew his arms up behind his head and lay back on them, focusing on the dull ache that throbbed in his bones as he settled into the sand.

He was sore, exhausted, and far away from home, but goddamn if he wasn’t still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two things i love writing: dialogue and fight scenes. get me going.
> 
> i'm going to try to take it easy with images from now on because i actually killed myself working on these two. i spent like twelve hours on each because of the complexity of the compositions cause i hate Self Care and i like to suffer. next chapter shouldn't take too long to get out though because it should be HELLA shorter and i already have the image drawn and lined lmao.
> 
> i'm super fucking pumped though i can actually see my art drastically improving with each image drawn for this story and that really pushes me to want to keep going full throttle.


	7. The Redwood Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys meet up with an old friend of Keith's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a little longer than it should have because ngl that last chapter burned me out a little bit. i even had the illustration for this chapter done way in advance and i just couldn't seem to get myself to finish writing it. that, and the overwatch anniversary event's happening rn so that's been occupying some of my time lol. but whatever it's here now and i can die peacefully. also word count again whoops lmao.

“Get your wormy ass off of my _legs!”_

Lance was startled awake by a furious voice in his ear and a pair of feet kicking at his chest. He yelped as he was shoved onto his back in the sand, landing directly on top of his discarded rifle and swearing as his spine met metal. He shimmied himself off of the weapon and propped himself up on his elbows before blinking his sleep away, his vision focusing to reveal a scowling Keith glaring down at him.

“Ah, man. Where’d the bigger you go?” Lance groaned, rubbing at his eyes now that his lethargy caught up to him. The sun was barely peaking over the horizon; it was too early in the morning for him to be awake, and he was already mourning the loss of his heated pillow as the early morning chill crept through his jacket.

“I thought I made it pretty clear last night that I didn’t want you laying on me,” Keith seethed, angrily pushing himself to his feet before scanning their surroundings.

Lance lay back in the sand, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the meager sunlight. “Give me a break, hotshot. It was cold. You’re warm and fuzzy. It’s human nature to be attracted to those two things.”

“Are you trying to tell me you lay on me in your _sleep?”_

“Oh, no. I deliberately snuggled with your leg. I just had to wait a little bit until you were practically in a coma,” Lance grinned. He sputtered when Keith kicked sand over him, swiping at his clothes and rolling to a sitting position to better defend himself. “Alright, chill! I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal. I’m sorry. Does it bother you _that_ much?”

_“You_ try waking up with some annoying kid snoozing on your legs and tell me that you like it.”

“Jeez. Tell me how you really feel,” Lance muttered under his breath, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his arms. “Cut me some slack—I don’t have the luxury of being a living fireplace, and I don’t know if you can tell, but the desert gets pretty cold at night.” He craned his neck, rubbing at the sore muscles on one side. “Honestly, not my best idea. You’re a lot less comfortable than I thought.”

“Probably because you spent most of the night sleeping on my _human_ legs, you moron. I can’t hold the lion form in my sleep.”

“What? Seriously? I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near you if I’d known I’d end up using your chicken legs as a pillow.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Keith growled, trudging over to a nearby rock and sitting himself on its surface. He frowned at Lance, who watched him curiously. "I haven’t had the power long enough. It wears off after a while—when I’m tired.”

“How long have you had it?”

Keith narrowed his eyes slightly and Lance hunched his shoulders a little, forfeiting the question. Maybe he was prying too deep again, and he really didn’t want to set Keith off after the fireworks show he put on in the Galra ship—

“Three years.”

Lance blinked before refocusing on Keith. He had his head set in his hand, his elbow resting on his knee. He was looking off toward the desert, his eyes seeing something else.

Lance mentally clapped himself on the back for finally scoring a tidbit of Keith’s past, even if it was a minor detail. “That’s a really long time.” A long time to be away from civilization. He couldn’t even imagine.

“Yeah, not long enough. I’d have to have it for years before I’m fully integrated with it.”

“How do you know that?”

Keith raised an eyebrow at him and Lance averted his eyes. He took that as his hint for definitely pushing a little too far. Keith’s silence was a loud enough answer. He switched the subject to something more pressing for the both of them.

“So, uh . . . what’s the plan, my man? For today? Cause I don’t have a lot of options of where to go at this point— What are you smiling at?”

Keith’s expression had shifted into a cheeky smirk, his eyes aimed somewhere below Lance’s. “You’re growing a beard.”

Lance’s hand immediately shot to his face, horrified to feel the beginnings of stubble along his jaw. Holy shit, that was going to bother him forever. “End me _now._ I haven’t been able to shave since I was at the Garrison. I’m going to kill myself if this stays.”

“That bad?”

“It fucking grows on my neck and itches and looks terrible if I don’t take care of it. Thanks a lot for pointing it out—it’s going to drive me crazy.”

“Anyway, I still have to go talk to someone about the Galra attacks, so you might as well stick with me and tell your side of the story. Maybe we’ll find you a razor,” he added with a smirk. “That officer said they were tracking my transformations. If that’s true, then I can’t change for a while. We don’t know if there’s any other Galra hiding out nearby, and there probably is. So,” Keith shrugged, not really looking apologetic, “no free rides today.” His voice faltered somewhat when he said, “Can you—can you walk? You look pretty beat up.”

Lance offered a careless wave of his hand and an easy smile. “I’m as good as I’ll ever be. Just a little sore.”

In truth, he was _very_ sore. The catastrophic end to his shootout and the near day-long ride atop the worst mount in the world had finally caught up to him in the morning. His aches were loud and persistent, occasionally throbbing with his pulse, and the scrapes on his skin were stiff with the beginnings of scabbing and stung when he smiled. It hurt to move, but they couldn’t just sit around all day when they had places to go. He was certain he’d loosen up after moving for a while.

“. . .  Did the Galra do that to you?”

Lance perked at Keith’s change in tone. It was softened with curious concern and tinged with what sounded like regret. But his words had a heavier weight to them, just barely masked by the worry in his voice. Something sharper; something fierce. Protective. When Lance glanced over, Keith was eyeing him from beneath his brow, his eyes dark. It sent an uncertain chill down his spine.

“What, this?” Lance asked casually while pointing to the entirety of his face, referring to the various scrapes that covered his skin. “Kind of? Not really. I picked a fight with the road back in town when I was shooting at the Galra.”

“Oh,” Keith replied dryly, his expression immediately losing its severity. “Did you win?”

“Nope, definitely not. Gotta hand it to the road this time. Kind of ruined my shootout.”

Keith hummed a quiet affirmation before falling silent again, eyes on the changing terrain toward the west. His body seemed to relax, his dark mood lifting, seemingly at ease with that answer. It was hard to believe that someone as unassuming as him had the explosive capacity of a bomb hiding beneath his skin.

“I didn’t really thank you for coming back for me yesterday,” Lance began, scratching absentmindedly at his stubbly chin and wincing when his nails pulled on healing skin, “or helping me free those people. You’re kind of an asshole sometimes but you keep having my back. So, thanks, hotshot.”

Keith didn’t answer him, nor did he elicit any sort of physical response that would imply that he heard a word Lance said. He continued staring distantly off at the horizon, lost in his own head. Lance wanted to say more, but he couldn’t find any words. His mind kept wandering back to the ferocity Keith had displayed, the destruction he had caused so readily and easily.

“You kind of freaked me out a bit,” Lance chuckled nervously, watching closely for any reaction. “Went a little crazy with the Galra, yeah?”

“I thought they had hurt you.”

Lance blinked, his smile fading at the statement. Keith still hadn’t moved, his eyes locked on the desert. His lip curled, just a little, as he continued.

“I was angry. When I saw how beat up you were, I thought they hurt you for shooting all the sentries outside. And I got so _angry._ The only thing I could think about was getting you away from that ship and away from the Galra so they couldn’t hurt you anymore.” His fingers clenched into a fist so tightly his hand shook, and Lance found it a little endearing (in kind of a scary way).

“You were concerned for me? Aw,” Lance grinned crookedly, and Keith shot him a tight scowl, unamused.

“I have a friend—a close friend—who was hurt by the Galra. A long time ago,” Keith said under his breath, and Lance had to lean in closer to hear his words. “He was captured by them. Experimented on. Forced to kill to survive. He escaped eventually, but, the damage had been done. Irreparable. His life was completely destroyed because of it.”

Lance listened intently, any previous traces of humor long gone.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of the Galra doing that to anyone else. Not to you—not to those people. I’m glad you made me stay because I was ready to tear that place apart and everything in it. Give them a little taste of what happens when they mess with peoples’ lives. And I was ready to kill _everything_ in that ship. So, I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”

Keith finished and met Lance’s eyes, a sly smirk pulling at his lips.

“But I guess I blew that ship up for nothing since you apparently hurt yourself on the street instead.”

“Hey, in my defense, I was shot in the leg. See?” Lance countered while pointing at the tear in his pants, the edges blackened from the laser that grazed him. “I was running, I blew a sentry’s head off, and a stray shot hit my leg and I fell. That sounds cooler, right?”

Keith scoffed. “If you say so, sharpshooter.”

Lance beamed at the nickname—it was fitting, even if Keith used it mockingly, and he liked it. “So, is it safe to say the Garrison’s official claim regarding the Galra is wrong?” he said, his fingers finding the strap of his gun and shouldering it as he pushed himself to his feet.

“Very wrong. The Galra have never been a nice race, and they’re not now. Are you sure you can walk?” Keith asked as he watched Lance stumble on his bad leg and hiss as the burn on his skin was irritated from the movement.

“Yeah. Totally. Just stings a little,” Lance answered with a weak smile, trying his best to ignore how the burn throbbed with each step. Again, he ran his hand along his jaw, irritated with the scratchy feeling he was met with. It was going to be a long day.

Keith eyed the tear in his pants warily as he stood. “Okay, just. Just let me know if you need a break, okay? You don’t need to keep hurting yourself.”

Lance exhaled as he stretched his leg out, hoping to alleviate some of the stiffness. “I might feel better if you give me an ETA for wherever the hell we’re going.”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

 

* * *

 

 

 In Lance’s defense, he only complained about a handful of times.

The walk was miserable. The laser burn stung and shocked his leg with pain every time he took a step, forcing him into a limp to try and avoid some of the irritation, but it only slowed them down. Ss he predicted, he was able to ignore the scrapes on his skin after a while, but the soreness didn’t go away. It hurt to breathe, and the eagerness with which he drew breath from the effort of walking was painful. Keith, despite his lack of enthusiasm about it, had forced him to sit every thirty minutes or so to properly catch his breath and allow his body a break, but it only made him irritable with guilt on top of the aches. The stubble on his face only irked him further, and he couldn’t help continuing to feel it to remind himself that yes, it was still there and it wasn’t going away.

A couple hours passed before Keith lead them to an old road heading west, claiming the even terrain would be easier on Lance and help their progress. Though there was probably truth in that, Lance was thrilled for another reason—where Keith had the skills to survive bare-bones in the wild, Lance had his foot confidently placed in societal tricks. The road being barren for miles and Keith’s sarcasm did not stop him from eagerly holding out his thumb.

His stubborn determination paid off eventually, if not without a few failed attempts first. After forcing Keith to wear his jacket (“At least _try_ to look a little less like a homeless slug, hotshot”) and bearing an argument regarding Keith’s status of whether he was actually homeless or not, he scored a rusty pickup truck. The story he had to weave on the spot to explain their physical states and his rifle was spectacular—and very far from the truth—but he managed to settle the concerned driver down enough to be granted a pair of seats. Lance could allow his mind to rest knowing he had made up a huge chunk of their lost time.

Eventually, they reached a lone truck stop just off an interstate. Keith had announced their departure and Lance went along with it, thanking the nice man and ensuring both of their safeties before hurrying after Keith. The truck stop was surrounded by massive redwood trees, the desert long behind them, and the smooth air was heaven after breathing dry heat for so long. It was a refreshing change of scenery.

“We can walk from here,” Keith said as he looked around at the semi-trucks lining the huge parking lot. “Get something to eat if you want, it’ll be a few hours before we get there. And stop touching your face.”

“You’re the one who just _had_ to point it out— No. _No._ Leave it on,” Lance snapped, dropping his hand from his chin and slapping it over Keith’s hand to interrupt the boy unzipping his jacket. “We’re in public. You’re going to attract a lot of weird attention if you go walking around without a shirt on.”

Keith glared at him before shoving him away, readjusting the jacket on his shoulders and zipping it back up with more force than necessary. He stomped ahead, and Lance was beginning to get the hint that _maybe_ the guy didn’t like to be touched.

Duly noted. Don’t touch the irritable guy who can set himself on fire with a snap of his fingers.

Lance entered the truck stop, breathing a sigh of relief as his sticky skin met cool air-conditioning. He envied Keith for his supposed immunity to heat—after all, the guy had yet to complain about being too hot in his jacket—but only a little since the rest of the alien magic package didn’t seem too particularly enticing. He allowed his stomach to lead his feet over to the hot foods on display, suddenly painfully aware of how long it’d been since he last ate.

“That shit’s going to give you a heart attack.”

Lance paused in his reaching for a small box of pizza, hand hovering just over the cardboard, and glanced over to find Keith watching him with a suppressed look of disgust.

“Everything here will give me a heart attack. What’s your beef with pizza?”

“Gas station pizza is the greasiest, slimiest, soggiest food you can waste your money on. There are way better options you can kill yourself with.”

Lance snorted, grabbing the box and tucking it under his arm. “You can’t say shit after eating a hamburger out of a dumpster.”

“It was a perfectly good hamburger and it was tasty.”

Lance couldn’t resist barking out a laugh at that, but he shut up immediately after noticing the employee manning the desk eyeing them with a frown.

“Okay, maybe we shouldn’t announce how disgusting you are to the world,” Lance muttered for only Keith’s ears.

“Says the one eating gas station pizza.”

“Oh shut up and find a dumpster.”

In the end, Lance ended up buying Keith a few hotdogs to make him shut up about his own choice of meal. And also because he knew Keith hadn’t eaten since the previous morning either, and he didn’t want the guy to starve. Lance took a seat at a dining table to eat while Keith wandered around the store, eating his hotdogs as he enamored himself with random shit he probably hadn’t seen in years.

Halfway through his pizza, Lance’s phone rang. He pressed his mouth into a thin line upon seeing the caller ID, bringing the device to his ear and bracing himself for a warm hello.

“Sup, mister?”

“Any new _exciting_ developments lately, Lance?” Pidge’s voice sounded from the receiver, his voice coated with a false sweetness that had Lance picturing the sarcastic smile he knew was on Pidge’s face. His stomach dropped and he groaned.

“You know already, don’t you?” he muttered with a hand through his hair.

“Garrison’s going crazy with news about a failed Galra attack. Administration’s announcing an investigation and students are on lockdown, Zulu Niner, until further notice. Distress calls were coming in from a small town out west, a town that sounds _suspiciously_ like the one you were hanging out in. Care to fill me in?”

“You sound like you’re accusing me of something.”

“The Galra sure keep seeming to land wherever you happen to be. Did you do something to piss them off?”

“No! No, I didn’t do anything to them. It’s just a case of wrong place, wrong time. I swear!”

“Were you there for the entire duration of the attack?”

“Lucky for me, yeah. I was. And before you ask, yes, they were trying to kidnap people. Like, the entire town, actually.”

Pidge was silent on the other end, and Lance knew he scored a point.

“Yeah, don’t think that slipped by me, Pidge. I want a full debriefing on all the shit you figured out about the Galra.”

“Fine. I’ll give you all the details when you get back. I’m not going to explain the whole thing over the phone. It’s sensitive information.”

“Deal.”

“So how did the attack fail? Reports are saying something destroyed a lot of the sentries and blew the ship up over the town, but some of the recounts aren’t clear and a lot of the details aren’t adding up. There shouldn’t have been anything in that town that could have countered a Galra invasion that easily.”

Lance paused, feeling the conversation dip a little too far into confidential territory. “That’s . . . a good question.”

Again, the line was silent for a moment. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?”

“Of course not!”

“Because reports are claiming a firefight occurred and there was a lot of dead sentries found with melted holes in their bodies—”

“What _reports?_ How the hell do you know all of this already? I highly doubt the Garrison would have just told the students everything.”

“Lance, I was in the Garrison’s system the second I caught wind of the word ‘Galra.’ Now put me on video chat.”

Lance froze, biting his lip nervously. “Um . . .”

“Put me on video, or so help me I’ll find a way to force it.”

This was not going to end well. Lance glanced up to find Keith standing a few feet away and watching him curiously, and Lance raised a finger to his mouth to prompt the boy to stay quiet. Keith raised an eyebrow in response but didn’t say anything, and Lance anxiously flipped his phone until the screen faced him. He accepted the video call request and tensed.

“What the _fuck,_ Lance?!” Pidge exclaimed immediately, making Lance flinch. Keith’s eyes widened at the sudden voice projection, but continued to stand silently nearby. “Did you seriously _fight_ the Galra? You look like you got ran over!”

“Chill out, the Galra didn’t do this to me! I fell on asphalt while running; I could have gotten hurt the same way riding a bike. It’s not that bad!”

“Did you win?” another voice sounded from Pidge’s end, and a grinning face appeared behind the younger boy, eyes bright with excitement.

Lance’s jaw went slack with disinterest. “Oh. Hi, Matt,” he deadpanned, eyes rolling. “Pidge, how is your cousin even there right now? I thought he was blacklisted from the Garrison.”

“We’re not at the Garrison, genius. We’re at a café in town— Are you growing a beard?”

“Don’t fucking remind me,” Lance grumbled bitterly. “Galra fighting’s hairy work.”

“Nice. Anyway, we were getting lunch and going over the Garrison’s reports of the Galra,” Matt supplied.

That made a lot of sense. Matt Holt was just as much of a fanatic about the Galra as Pidge was, and Pidge only enabled his obsession by providing him with insider information. Lance had always found the guy to be a bit overbearing, even for him. He just seemed to snap a little after his father was lost in space, and he’d been all over the place ever since, even managing to drag Pidge into the mess. Those two could crash a government in an afternoon if they had reason to.

“To answer your question, Matt, yes. I did win. The Galra failed, didn’t they?” Lance replied with a crooked, cocky grin. His eyes flicked up and he watched with amusement as Keith crossed his arms with a disapproving scowl, clearly unimpressed with him taking credit for his destructive deeds.

“Did you see where they went?” Pidge asked, and Lance’s smile dropped.

“What do you mean where they went?”

“The Galra. They flew away after their ship was damaged but as far as we can tell they didn’t break atmo again.”

Lance’s eyes flew up to Keith’s, who returned his gaze with equal surprise. “I thought it blew up completely.”

“Not according to the town’s residents,” Matt said. “If the Garrison can find out where they flew to, they can intercept the ship and arrest any Galra inside and they can figure out why the Galra are being aggressive. So do you remember what direction they flew in?”

“Uh . . .” Lance faltered, his mind racing with possibilities. The Galra were still lurking somewhere, then. Keith had been smart to hold off on shifting, but it meant they were still in danger. “No. I didn’t see. Listen, my phone’s about to die so I’ll talk to you guys later.”

“Wait, Lance—” Lance cut the call before Pidge could finish. He exchanged uneasy glances with Keith.

“Guess I didn’t set enough fires,” Keith mumbled unhappily. He frowned, suddenly angry. “Son of a bitch. I thought I _had_ them.”

“Okay, let’s not dwell on it now. Let’s just focus on going where you need to go, yeah?” Lance placated with a raised hand. Keith seemed to simmer down with that, shaking his head to clear his frustrations.

“Fine. Whatever. Look at this,” Keith said before slapping a hefty piece of folded paper down on the table—a map of the immediate area, it looked like. He trailed his finger along landmarks as he said, “We’re going up this way. It’s kind of a rough hike, but if we’re quick, we can reach the place by nightfall.”

“You boys planning on heading into the forest?” a gravelly voice sounded nearby, and both Lance and Keith whipped their heads around to see the employee from the desk standing on the other side of an aisle, supposedly in the middle of restocking the shelves. He was old in age, grizzly in appearance, and he reminded Lance of someone’s hick grandpa, the kind that breathed tobacco chew and owned a handful of shotguns. Lance prayed with all his being that the man hadn’t overheard his conversation with Pidge and his cousin.

“Yeah, what of it?” Keith answered, about as polite as Lance expected him to be. The guy had no class.

“You best keep your eyes peeled,” the man warned, his voice whistling on his words. “I get travelers coming in here all the time telling stories—hikers that claim to hear strange sounds over the trees, seeing something big lurking out there. Sometimes weird lights at night.”

Lance exchanged glances with Keith. Lance grinned. “Alien sightings _and_ cryptids? Pidge would go nuts if he were here.”

“You boys watch yourselves out there. They say the Redwood Monster is not a kind soul. Don’t let it catch you.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Keith responded drily before taking his leave. Lance had to scramble after him, cursing and hissing as his leg protested from the abrupt movements.

“So. Haunted forest,” Lance stated once he’d caught up outside, easing himself into a slower pace. He grunted when his jacket was suddenly slapped against his chest, Keith having shed it in an instant of being free from public eyes.

“Sounds like it.”

“Friend of yours?”

Keith just smiled.

 

* * *

 

 

Naturally, it took them much longer to get to where they needed to go because of Lance’s leg. Keith had been right—the walk was difficult because of the dense terrain, made only harder with Lance’s injuries. There were multiple times where he tripped over a branch or stumbled through brush, and even one occasion where he walked headfirst into a tree. Despite Keith’s worsening mood due to the slow pace, he couldn’t hold back his explosive laughter while Lance swore his tongue off on the ground.

They were far behind schedule, and night fell sooner than they hoped. It only made the walk slower, as Lance could only rely on Keith for sight. He was exhausted and hurting and hungry again and dying for a rest, but he knew Keith had no more patience for standing around. It was only progress from there on out, no matter how slow.

Keith had resigned himself to silently brooding long ago, so Lance swiveled his head around to scan the environment, looking for something of interest. There wasn’t much to see since it was dark—the massive redwood trees did a fabulous job of blotting out the moon, so the forest floor was cast in pure shadow. He could occasionally catch hints of light bouncing off the bushes and rocks, but there wasn’t much to focus on. It was a little suffocating.

His mind wandered to the old man at the truck stop. The warning had probably been a joke, told only to put a little excitement and mystery into their adventure, but Keith’s silent reactions to his prodding questions made him believe there was definitely something wandering among the trees somewhere. If the thing was truly a friend of Keith’s, then he probably had nothing to worry about, but the thought that something could be lurking in the shadows just beyond his vision set him on edge. He had no idea what to expect.

He tried to put his mind on other things. “Hey, Keith. How you doing up there?”

Keith stopped walking and straightened, slowly turning around until he was glaring back at Lance, apparently very displeased with that question. It was probably a poor choice to start a conversation since Lance was the one holding them back. He smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. Stupid question. Um. Got a favorite movie?”

“Are you serious,” Keith said drily, his frown deepening further. “How was that question any less stupid?”

“I don’t know, everyone’s got a favorite movie—”

“I don’t watch movies!” Keith exclaimed, exasperated, and Lance flinched at the harshness of his voice against the quiet forest air.

“Alright, chill. Just trying for some small talk,” Lance muttered, abandoning that route. He resumed walking once Keith had turned back around, scratching idly at his jaw. “Is there anything that can burn you?”

“What?” Keith questioned over his shoulder.

“Like, since you can shoot fire. Can you be burned by anything? Lava? Lightning? The sun?”

“No, Lance,” Keith answered, albeit irritably. “Nothing can burn me. I am totally immune to any degree of heat. That’s why the Galra couldn’t hurt me yesterday—their weapons are useless on me.”

“Oh. That’s cool to know.”

Silence befell them once more, but Lance’s curiosity surfaced again quickly enough.

“Does it hurt when you go lion?”

Keith huffed in annoyance. “Could you just focus on _walking?”_

“I can walk and talk at the same time!”

“You’re going to run out of breath faster and then you’re going to need another break. I’d like to get there sometime this year, _Lance.”_

“You’ve got such a temper. I know we’re going a little slow, but do you need to be this mad about it?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

_“Because I can’t go lion!”_ Keith shouted as he whirled around, startling Lance into a halt. His voice rang through the trees, echoing off into the air. It cut through the quiet night like a knife. Maybe, Lance thought, antagonizing Keith wasn’t the best option at that moment.

Keith began furiously pacing. “You don’t understand and I don’t expect you to understand. I _have_ to change every once in a while, or it drives me insane. It’s like an itch under my skin that I can’t scratch unless I do it, and I’m too wired unless I can burn off the energy but I can’t do it when I’m human because it’s _too much,_ and on top of all this I have to babysit you _again_ and I don’t even have the option to change this time because the _fucking_ Galra are breathing down my neck and I’ll fuck _everything_ up if I lead them right to the castle! So I’m sorry if you think I’m mad because hell fucking _yes_ I’m mad!”

Lance stared at Keith as he finished, his pacing slowing to a stop, shoulders heaving and fists clenched at his sides.

“. . . Lead them to the what?” Lance asked tentatively, his mind dwelling on one particular thing from the entire rant. Had he said _castle?_ Keith suddenly froze, his foul mood evaporating with the realization that he said something he probably shouldn’t have. His eyes met Lance’s and Lance could see brief panic in them.

“Just forget it,” Keith spat, allowing his sourness to return and mask his mistake. He stood rigidly in place for a moment more before growling, “I gotta pee. Just fucking keep going and I’ll catch up.”

Lance watched him walk off in a separate direction, still stunned by the outburst and the information Keith had leaked into it. It was intriguing, certainly, but he obviously didn’t want to talk about it and Lance was likely never going to hear about it again, so he tried discarding the thought.

He began walking again, having no urgency for Keith to catch up with hopes that the boy blows off some steam. The sudden sense of loneliness slammed into him full force once Keith was well out of earshot, and he was reminded of his mini-crisis back at the desert town after Keith had left him to his own devices. He hated remembering just how much he needed companionship.

It wasn’t as if it would be a long time before Keith returned—the boy just needed a moment to himself and he’d be back before Lance knew it. But he couldn’t deny the eerie feeling of walking in a dark forest. He thought back to the oasis, when he had been searching for his VGO, and he remembered the thick presence that hung over the place, the feeling of eyes set on his back. Now, of course, he knew it had been Keith at the time, but the memory still sent uneasy chills down his spine. It was a paranoia he did not want a repeat of in the forest. He rubbed at his jaw with hopes of distracting himself with the annoying feeling of prickly hairs on his fingers.

A break in the trees was a heavenly sight, and Lance felt he could breathe again once he stepped out into the clearing. The waxing moon was free to shine down with the absence of trees, and Lance was delighted to find a shimmering pond in the middle of the clearing. It was a considerable size, spanning several hundred yards across the clearing, and pale light sparkled off its surface where ripples formed from the breeze. It was dazzling to watch, and Lance found himself enamored.

Something flashed in his peripheral and Lance glanced up, his eyes searching the other end of the pond for whatever had caught his attention, but he saw nothing apart from darkness. He chalked it up to his imagination and tried shrugging it off, but his gut was telling him otherwise. Fear spread in his chest when he remembered some of the man’s words, and he didn’t even look up when he noticed another flash. Weird lights, the man had said. He felt frozen to the spot, his eyes stubbornly locked on his own reflection in the water. Wherever Keith was, he hoped the guy would catch up quick.

Relax, he told himself. It’s just Keith’s friend. Just Keith’s friend. Probably. He had nothing to worry about. Whatever was friends with Keith probably wouldn’t eat him. Or hurt him. He hoped. His self-reassurances did little to ease his jumping nerves or lower the raised hairs on the back of his neck—he could definitely feel a presence in the area. Something heavy. Definitely not Keith.

His fingers tightened painfully around the strap of his rifle, the joints popping lightly from the pressure. With a deep breath, Lance tore his eyes away from the water and scanned the pond’s edge, his rifle already in unsteady arms. He had no idea what he was looking for, and the cloak of night didn’t help much, so he squinted his eyes as he frantically searched the area.

Something big was catching the moon’s light on the opposite end of the pond, something unnatural. It was subtle, almost impossible to see had Lance not been focusing so hard. He drew the rifle up and aimed at the shadow across the way, peering through his sights to magnify whatever the thing was. Aside from an overlay of blue over the black, his sights offered no more information than he could already see.

That is, until he noticed a pair of glowing eyes set into the silhouette. Cold fear crept into his veins like ice.

“Uh, Keith? You there?” Lance called over his shoulder, his eyes glued to the thing across the pond. It didn’t move, and for some reason that spooked him more. He retreated a few steps from the water’s edge before twisting around, desperation leaking into his trembling voice as he cried to the trees, “Hey, buddy, you with me?”

Another flash in his peripheral and he turned back around and screamed.

His fear drove him to the ground and he scrambled on his back away from the monster now towering over him, his rifle forgotten at its feet. His heart leapt into his throat when a massive hand slammed into the dirt by his side, followed by another on his other side, caging him in and causing his muscles to lock up in terror as a torrent of hot, rancid breath blasted his face with an ear-shattering roar.

It felt like an eternity before it was over. Silence fell over the trees after the echoes died off, but Lance’s ears continued to ring as he remained curled up in the dirt, arms crossed protectively over his face. He could hear the thing breathing heavily over him, could feel the puffs of warm air hitting the skin of his hands as he remained trapped beneath the weight of its suffocating presence. Slowly, he lowered his trembling arms until he could see the face of the beast nearly crushing him, and he was greeted with the sight of a long muzzle, sharpened teeth, and burning, yellow eyes.

Of course Keith’s friend was a fucking lion. He felt like an idiot for not expecting it, but it was also something he’d probably never get totally used to. And this lion was nothing like Keith.

It was _huge,_ easily dwarfing Keith’s lion. It was also entirely black, making it difficult to see in the dark, and it sported a voluminous mane that was blacker than the rest of it and only made it appear even bigger. With the proximity of its face, Lance could see a long, thin scar running horizontally across the bridge of its nose, beginning and ending below each eye, as well as a shock of white that threaded into its mane at the base of the forehead.

“Hey, Shiro.”

The lion immediately flicked its gaze up and Lance followed, craning his neck back until he could see Keith walking casually, upside-down, toward the two of them. A crooked smile crossed his face as he met Lance’s eyes.

Lance jumped when the lion above him barked out a growl at Keith.

“Yeah. He’s with me. I trust him,” Lance heard Keith answer. The lion met his eyes and he gaped at the smile it gave him, eyes twinkling with humor and intelligence that had been masked by fierceness a moment ago. It pushed itself away from him and he sucked in a breath, the night’s cool air replacing the stiff heat that had radiated from the lion’s body against him. It offered its hand—paw—out to him, and he dazedly took it and allowed the lion to pull him to his feet before he numbly swept the dirt off his jacket.

The great black lion brushed past him, muscles tight under its skin as it sauntered on all fours towards Keith, a pair of black pants hugging its legs down to the knees. Something caught the moonlight and Lance’s breath hitched when he noticed the robotic limb in place of its right arm: metal perfectly shaped and proportioned to mirror the left; clearly designed for performance in its sleek simplicity; plates and wires twisting down the appendage and ending in razor claws at the tips of the fingers.

A cybernetic prosthetic. Unlike anything Lance had ever seen.

With his eyes refusing to leave the lion as it bumped its forehead against Keith, who grinned vibrantly even as the force displaced him a little, Lance clumsily bent down and picked up his rifle. He balanced it loosely in his hands as the lion settled itself behind Keith, sitting back on its haunches with its hands on its knees, looking patiently back at Lance.

Nobody spoke for a good stretch of time. Keith, in the lion’s looming shadow, stared at Lance, mouth twitching as if he were holding back a smile. Lance stared back, limbs still trembling from lingering adrenaline, mind still on pause. It took a moment for his brain to start up again.

“Maybe a little warning next time?!” Lance spat harshly at Keith, voice cracking a little. Keith’s poker face finally broke with a wide smile.

“What? He scare you?” Keith snickered with a thumb indicating to the lion behind him, who smiled on cue.

 

 

“No _shit_ he scared me! I thought he was going to eat me!”

“We don’t eat people. Actually, _he’s_ less likely to eat you than I am.”

“Then why’d he yell at me?!”

“Well. He can be a little,” Keith began, exchanging knowing glances with the lion, “territorial.”

The lion huffed at Lance.

“And he says he’s sorry for scaring you.”

Lance blinked. “You can understand him?”

“Yep. Lion perk. You want a lift?”

“A— W-What?”

“Like, a ride? On Shiro,” Keith elaborated, twisting around and patting his hand insistently on the lion’s mane. “He’s like a bus, he can fit both of us. His camp’s still a few miles away and you’re kind of shit at walking. He won’t run, don’t worry.”

“Uh . . .” Lance stammered nervously, uncertain about going anywhere near the massive beast. Keith insisted that it—he, Shiro, whatever—wouldn’t hurt him, and he believed it, but . . . It was still a hyper-intelligent apex predator the size of a Ford that had just finished spitting in his face. Could they really blame him for being reluctant? “Thanks, but. I think I’ll walk,” he decided, voice small under the lion’s expectant gaze.

Keith frowned. “What? You’ve been limping all day. Don’t you want a break?”

“Yeah, no offense Keith, but you kind of ruined giant lion riding for me for the rest of my life. My thighs are still chaffed from yesterday.”

Keith gave him a flat stare before shrugging. “Whatever. Suit yourself.” He pivoted on his foot and leapt onto Shiro’s side, his fingers tangling into the long, dark hairs of his mane as he hauled himself up. Shiro grunted before reaching around and swatting Keith off of him, and Lance snorted when the boy stumbled back onto the ground.

“Shiro, come on,” Keith complained, attempting another climb. Shiro easily shrugged him off and batted him away. “Shiro! What the hell?”

Shiro released a series of barking grunts, shaking his head back and forth and stepping away from Keith. Keith’s jaw went slack as he gaped at the lion, then slowly turned his glare on Lance.

“He says I’m not allowed to ride if you’re not going to.” Then he crossed his arms and hunched his shoulders before muttering, “Says it’s rude. Whatever. Thanks a lot, Lance.”

Shiro’s rumbling growl filled the air and Keith rolled his eyes.

“Well, his decision to walk shouldn’t affect me. It’s not my fault he’s a stubborn moron—"

Shiro dropped on all fours and began ambling away while loudly grunting and growling to drown out Keith’s protests, head raised haughtily. His tail suddenly whipped out and brushed Keith’s feet out from under him, dropping the boy to the ground like a rock with an outraged cry. Shiro smiled over his shoulder at Lance and beckoned with his head in the direction he was walking, prompting Lance to follow. He quickly shouldered his rifle and enthusiastically obeyed, already forgiving the hulking lion for the heart attack he gave him earlier.

“I like him,” Lance said gleefully as he passed Keith, who was still fuming on his back in the dirt. The boy shot him the finger and Lance only laughed, hurrying to catch up with Shiro as fast as his smarting leg would allow. The day’s journey was beginning to set into his bones and he was feeling it.

“Glad you like him cause he’s an _asshole!”_ Lance heard Keith shout from behind. The mighty black lion cocked his head in Lance’s direction and gave him a good-natured wink.

“Hey—Shiro, is it?” Lance asked as he caught up beside the lion. Shiro paused and gazed at him curiously. “Sorry, I’m, um. I’m still getting used to the lion thing, but, if the offer’s still open, I’ll take that lift?”

Shiro merely smiled and gave a small nod. He lowered himself closer to the ground and turned to expose his side to Lance, but before Lance could even attempt to climb aboard, Keith rushed over and leapt onto Shiro’s back in a single bound.

“Finally,” Keith grumbled, but there was humor in his voice. The corners of his lips twitched upwards and he cocked an expectant eyebrow at Lance. “Mount up, sharpshooter. We’re riding in style.”

Shiro blew air from his lips but didn’t make any effort to kick Keith off again. Lance tried to follow Keith’s lead, leaping onto Shiro’s side and tangling his fingers into his mane to anchor himself, but immediately he began slipping. Keith, in the least gentle manner he could possibly accomplish, caught Lance’s hand and hauled him the rest of the way up.

Lance rubbed at his arm where Keith had nearly torn it from its socket and settled himself on Shiro’s back, one leg beneath him and one hanging off the side, Keith flanking him on his left. Keith had been right—they both easily fit. Shiro’s back was especially broad and his long mane made it easy to hang on. They rocked a little as Shiro lifted himself from the ground and began walking again, shoulder blades rising rhythmically with his leisurely pace.

It was such a bizarre experience. Here Lance was in the middle of a massive redwood forest, miles from home, on the back of a huge black lion man while sitting next to a boy who could also transform into a giant lion. It was an impossible scenario by any human standards, and he was living it. His friends could never even hope to imagine. Despite the exhaustion that clawed at his awareness, he felt giddy with excitement.

Lance could feel the growl vibrating beneath Shiro’s skin.

“No, I did not finally burn my shirt off,” Keith answered defensively. “It was old and falling apart and it just gave at some point. Matter of time, anyway.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at him before using Shiro’s mane to hang on as he leaned closer to the lion’s ear, loudly whispering, “He burned it off.”

“Lance!” Keith snapped, betrayal in his voice. Lance grinned guiltily up at him. “After everything we’ve been through together and you’d just expose me like that?”

“Some things are just on a need-to-know basis,” Lance replied matter-of-factly. He yelped when Keith suddenly shoved him, nearly throwing him off of Shiro’s back if not for the lion’s quick reflex to adjust his balance. His chastising bark made both of the boys jump.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbled, shrugging apologetically. “You know, he’s never going to let me live the shirt thing down. We made a bet months ago, and you just dug my grave.”

“You really should be more careful about playing with fire,” Lance said, elbowing Keith’s shoulder as payback for the shove. It wasn’t nearly as rough, but the contact still had Keith eyeing him warily, though his smile remained. It was weird seeing such an easy expression on his face—he had a scowl permanently etched into his features, and the occasional smiles he did wear reeked of mockery or smugness. But the other lion’s presence seemed to invoke a different side of him, and Lance immediately knew what it was.

Keith had the brightest smile when he was happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might slow down with updating soon because i'm going to start working again and i also want to take some time to go easier on myself. i've got bad wrists and a bad back and sitting at my computers for hours on end isn't doing me any favors, plus i want to practice drawing some specific things outside of this fic so i can figure out some methods to help me in the future. i'm going to keep writing though, just want to hone some skills. plus i gotta remember how to draw shiro i haven't drawn that guy in a while lol and it's important to me that i get it RIGHT


	8. A Lion's Hospitality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance receives a little insight as to what the Galra are after and spends some time with Keith's mysterious friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no illustration for this chapter yet because this fic's been on hold for a while so i'll add that at a later time. i'll make all my excuses at the end.

Lance decided he’d never get used to sleeping on the ground.

After they’d arrived to where Shiro apparently lived, Lance had wasted little time curling up in the dirt and succumbing to his exhaustion. He barely acknowledged Keith trying to offer him a blanket and managed to get it spread out beneath him before he passed out, though the blanket smelled musty so he made sure to use his jacket as a pillow instead. He fell asleep to the sounds of Keith’s low voice and Shiro’s soft growls as the two conversed quietly amongst themselves nearby.

His Garrison bed hadn’t exactly been a cloud, but it had been clean and didn’t smell, at least, and he usually didn’t wake up sore after a night in it. The hard floor of the forest was not kind to his aching injuries and his body was heavy and stiff upon waking. It was like his bones had been replaced with lead after being beaten with a hammer.

The dull throbbing in his muscles was the first thing he became aware of. The second was the sound of persistent arguing. The third was his lingering hunger but that wasn’t as annoying as the first two.

“Shiro! Come on! Let me go, I’m _fine—”_

“You’re terrible at maintaining yourself. I’m glad you finally burned that filthy shirt off—it’s about time you changed your clothes. And when was the last time you bathed?”

Two voices. One was Keith, and the other . . . Lance didn’t recognize.

“I keep myself clean,” Lance heard Keith grumble.

“Not clean enough. I can smell your skin fermenting.”

“Dude, that’s _disgusting—”_

“That’s what I’m saying!”

Lance groaned as the sounds of struggle and cursing made it impossible to fall back asleep. The insistent ache of his body didn’t help much, either. He resigned himself to another early morning and slowly pushed himself to a sitting position with a sigh, nose filling with the muggy smell of moist wood and moss. His eyes were heavy with lingering sleep and his hand rubbed along his prickly jaw, disappointed with discovering that the incoming hairs hadn’t disappeared overnight.

The one mercy out of the whole thing was it was still comfortably dark. Shiro’s “home,” according to Keith, was an expanse of territory the great lion had claimed for himself in the redwood forest and dutifully guards, but his go-to residence was an especially large tree whose base included an opening to a hollowed cavity within. The trunk surrounding them blocked out a good portion of the early sun, allowing Lance’s eyes an easier chance to open.

The inside of the tree was filled with all kinds of junk, including various articles of clothing strewn about, random supplies lying all over the place, and strange machines and devices lining the walls that glowed and hummed with their own energy. He had never seen anything like them before and had no idea what they did. Matted rugs littered the ground, placed randomly around to cover as much dirt as possible without lying too close to the small fire pit that smoldered in the middle of the room.

He zeroed in on the disturbance, blearily gazing across the room at a vexed Keith squirming in the arms of a much larger man wielding a wicked grin.

“You really need a haircut, kiddo. How can you see with that curtain hanging in your eyes?”

Lance blinked blankly, his tired brain struggling to catch up and make sense of what he was seeing. The man wrestled Keith against his chest and secured him with a single arm before making a show of licking his other hand and slowly pushing his palm back over Keith’s head, slicking Keith’s bangs back over his scalp and out of his eyes as he flailed in disgust.

“I don’t know how you can stand your hair being like that. Don’t you think he should get it cut, Lance?”

Lance jumped slightly when he was suddenly addressed, dark eyes turning to meet his. His tired mind finally caught up and he was able to put the pieces together.

Lance had been expecting an old man from the graying hair, but he was a lot younger than Lance previously assumed; late twenties, maybe early thirties. A thin scar ran horizontally over the bridge of his nose and a silvery fringe hung in his eyes. The rest of his hair was jet black, the short strands unkempt as they ran down along a strong jaw before meeting at his chin in a patch of gray. Tight black pants that stretched partway down his calves hung low on his hips, small holes and tears in the fabric hinting at the wear they had seen, but his feet were bare and he wore no shirt.

The skin of his right arm reached only halfway down his bicep before giving way to scarred flesh kissing metal—a prosthetic arm, proportioned perfectly to match his left. Somehow the artificial limb didn’t look any less intimidating as a normal arm, even when the fingers lacked barbs at the ends.

Lance knew he was gazing into the human eyes of the black lion he’d met the night before.

“Yeah. He could go for a cut,” Lance answered numbly, his throat suddenly dry. He couldn’t help his eyes roaming the man’s torso, seeing scar after scar marring his flesh, suggesting at a harsh past—he hadn’t been able to see them the night before in the dark and through the lion’s mane. It was disturbing, even despite the brightness of the man’s eyes or the lighthearted smile softening features that were otherwise rough.

“Thanks, Lance. Can always count on you,” Keith growled from his prison. The struggle was clearly playful, and for once Keith didn’t look ready to jump out of his skin from physical contact. His annoyance seemed to stem purely from being overpowered, and whatever the man—Shiro, it seemed—was doing didn’t seem to be benefitting Keith any. Judging from the cheeky grin and the mischief in Shiro’s eyes, that seemed to be exactly what he was going for.

The tight bond between the two was obvious, and it warmed Lance a little. It reminded him of the roughhousing he used to partake in with his older siblings, and he was suddenly reminded of just how far away from home he really was. His throat tightened as a pang of homesickness hit him.

Keith finally managed to worm his out of Shiro’s hold, though not without the man’s obvious relenting. Keith aggressively swiped at his hair until it lay flat over his forehead again, warily eyeing Shiro as the older man slowly rose to his feet. The light of the fire revealed every infliction to his skin as he straightened and Lance viciously clamped down on his curiosity before it made him say something inconsiderate.

It took Lance a moment to realize Shiro was walking around the firepit toward him. There was a natural air of authority to the man that had Lance scrambling to his feet to stand at attention, wincing as he irritated the burn on his leg. His eyes widened when he took in just how much bigger the man was than him; broad-shouldered and strapping, built like a soldier. And he thought Hunk was a big guy. Shiro carried himself with every ounce of pride and power his lion was, and Lance found himself holding his breath as the man came to a stop before him.

“I think I made a pretty bad first impression. Why don’t we start over?” Shiro smiled warmly down at him as he extended a friendly hand—his prosthetic, Lance noted nervously. His fingers twitched to cross the gap and grasp the metal fingers purely out of respect, but the cyber limb had him pausing, his eyes studying it carefully and taking in all the details. It was too advanced for human technology. Far too advanced. It made him raw with nerves pondering where it came from.

But something about Shiro put him at ease. There was a strong confidence in the way he moved, a soothing timbre to his voice. He had a commanding presence, as if all attention was meant to gravitate to him naturally, and it made Lance feel small, but not in a suffocating way. More like he was sheltered under the man’s gaze, and Shiro had some of the kindest eyes he’d ever seen.

Lance heartily gripped Shiro’s offered hand with a crooked smile, allowing his lungs to expend the air they’d been holding as the man squeezed his hand in return. The metal fingers were surprisingly gentle in their grip.

“My friends call me Shiro,” Shiro said, and there was something far more satisfying about his own introduction than Keith could accomplish. It made Lance feel welcomed in the man’s home, and he couldn’t help smiling at the word ‘friend.’ “Sorry for yelling in your face last night. I didn’t know you were with Keith at the time and I have a bit of a reputation to uphold.”

“Reputation—?” Lance wondered allowed before Keith called over from another side of the room.

“You’re shaking hands with the infamous Redwood Monster.”

Lance realized he was still holding Shiro’s hand and quickly released him, allowing the man his arm back as he smiled sheepishly up at him. Shiro didn’t seem to notice his awkward behavior, or chose not to acknowledge it, and Lance was relieved for that. For some reason, he really felt a need to be liked by this man—a drastic contrast from how he felt about Keith. It was hard to believe the two were as close as they were given their seemingly polar opposite personalities.

Shiro shrugged. “I’m a bit of a legend around these parts. I make habits of scaring hikers and campers as they pass through.”

“Why’s that?” Lance asked.

Shiro gave him an enigmatic smile. “Cause they’re trespassing,” he answered cryptically, his tone implying more to his words. Lance was well versed in the Lion Vague Voice by then so he didn’t pry further, knowing it’d be a pointless endeavor. He’d just have to deal with the unsatisfied curiosity.

Shiro’s expression shifted. “Keith told me about the attacks in the desert already. Why don’t you help fill in the details for me?”

 

  
They sat outside on a pair of boulders, Keith at Lance’s side, as the boys recapped the Galra attacks in detail. Shiro sat opposite them, elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, his previously-cheerful demeanor having been replaced by one more serious as he listened with rapt attention. His brow was furrowed, the creases deepening when anything caught his attention. Overall, he looked deeply troubled by the news, and that made Lance nervous.

“What I don’t understand is why they would drop a carrier on a small desert town,” Shiro said after the boys had finished their tale, rubbing his fingers through the hairs on his chin in thought. “It has no strategic value.”

“Like I said, they probably just tracked my transformation from the previous night and ended up there,” Keith replied as he continued to rapidly bounce his leg, his constant fidgeting making even Lance anxious. Lance tried to ignore him and rolled his eyes upon remembering that night—Keith blundering about as a giant red cat in public had been a disaster waiting to happen, and apparently in more ways than one.

“But to touch down with a carrier of all things? If they had been meaning to catch you, it would have made more sense if they used something smaller. A dropship or something—a ship that’s capable of keeping up. But a carrier is the smallest model of ship the Galra have that can get under the Garrison’s radar and still carry a lot of bodies, like a small army. It’s not fast enough.”

“There weren’t that many sentries on board, now that I think about it,” Keith muttered.

“What? Are you kidding? There was definitely an army on that ship,” Lance argued.

“That wasn’t an army. Not even close, and definitely not by Galra standards. That was an escort team.”

Shiro frowned. “You think it was planned.”

“Think about it,” Keith mused, fingers tapping idly on the rock, eyes distant in thought. “They drop a mostly-empty ship on a small town in the middle of the desert. Obviously they were following me, but I was already gone, so they went straight to rounding up the town’s residents and loading them aboard. They were willing to take that entire town whether I was there or not. They meant to take all those people.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Shiro said with a shake of his head. “The Galra are known to kidnap people, but they’ve never participated in mass-abductions. It’s a waste of resources.”

That caught Lance’s attention—a confirmation to Pidge’s theory about the Galra kidnapping people. Maybe he was right and the Kerberos mission wasn’t an accident after all. He tucked that info away for later.

“We’re missing a motive,” Shiro continued. He turned to Lance and Lance was quick to offer his full attention. “Lance, you were aboard the ship. You didn’t happen to catch anything from the soldiers, did you?”

”Aside from some expected ominous shit? Nothing worth repeating,” Lance shrugged before turning to Keith. “Maybe you should have asked when you were threatening to burn a hole in that guy’s head.”

“You’re right. And we would have been blown to pieces with the rest of the Galra on that ship if I bothered wasting all that time,” Keith shot back.

“You had time to ask how they were tracking you.”

“Yeah, cause it was kind of _important_ that I know that!”

“Alright, take it easy, you two,” Shiro cut in, his voice dipping into reproachful. Keith twisted away with a huff and Lance pressed his mouth into a thin line as he averted his gaze from the man’s disapproving stare. “It doesn’t matter now. We’ll figure it out eventually, but what’s important is you sabotaged their plans and saved all those people. But I need you to understand something.” Both of the boys gave him their attention, and Shiro looked pointedly at Keith.

“This is not a fight we want to provoke. Keith, you got lucky in the oasis, but you made a mistake in assuming the carrier was destroyed after revealing yourself. They would have broadcasted your presence to the rest of the fleet hanging out in the solar system by now.”

“You can thank _Lance_ for that, by the way,” Keith growled. “Both times it’s because I’ve had to save _his_ ass—”

“Hey!”

_“Keith,”_ Shiro snapped, and the boy shut up immediately. “Don’t blame Lance for this. It’s not his fault he got caught in the middle of our problem. What’s done is done, but the fact of the matter still remains—they know you’re here. You can’t risk exposing yourself anymore or they’ll strangle Earth and find us sooner than we can deal with. No more engaging the Galra.”

“They’re just going to fucking track me wherever I go, anyway! Might as well blast them to goddamn pieces when they catch up!” Keith snapped as he threw his hands up in frustration. Lance inched away from the seething boy to allow him space, practically feeling the anger wafting from him. He was unusually riled up for so early in the morning.

Shiro took it in stride and gazed patiently at Keith. “When was the last time you changed?”

Keith paused, his face going slack as he was caught off guard. He scratched at his arms as he answered, “Uh . . . I think, like, before yesterday was the last time.”

“And you haven’t slept. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep stressing yourself out like this.”

“Shiro, I _can’t_ sleep when I feel like I want to tear my skin off!”

“I know, buddy,” Shiro replied softly. “You need to burn some of that energy. Go ahead.”

Keith blinked, stunned. “What? But the Galra—”

“Can’t find you here,” Shiro finished for him. “Their scanners can’t read this area, remember?”

"But—but I thought—” Keith cast a nervous glance at Lance, who frowned slightly in return, “they’re . . . it’s not here.”

“The castle doesn’t have to be here.” Lance whipped his head back to Shiro, eyes wide as the man calmly met his gaze, apparently having no issue with disclosing that bit of information, as weird as it sounded to Lance’s ears. “But the energy lingers even when it’s gone. In fact, you might want to consider sticking around for a while, Keith. It’s safer for you here.”

Keith stammered a bit more before nervously eyeing the sky above them, as if the Galra could drop down at any moment. Shiro took the time to assure him further and Keith finally quieted, seemingly eased by the news.

He exchanged a quick glance with Lance before muttering, “Finally.”

Lance yelped as he was knocked over by a wall of heat and fur suddenly invading his space. Keith immediately jumped to his feet before launching himself at a nearby tree, shards of bark flying through the air as he clawed his way higher. Lance picked himself off the surface of the boulder as he dusted the dirt off his jacket, scowling up at the lion.

“Sorry about him,” he heard Shiro say, and he looked up to find Shiro still watching Keith ascend. “He’s a bit of a handful sometimes.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’m used to the whole thing by now,” Lance shrugged. He eyed Shiro tentatively, “So, uh . . . a castle, huh?”

Shiro’s eyes fell back to his, and Lance held his breath as he awaited a response. It took Shiro a long time before he finally offered any answer.

“How much has Keith told you about us?” he asked.

Lance frowned, unsatisfied with being answered with a question, but tried recalling everything he’d learned from Keith, which wasn’t a whole lot. “Honestly? Not much. Some alien magic, some lion stuff. He did mention a castle last night. That’s about it.”

“Right. Keith told me he accidentally let that part slip,” Shiro mumbled, drawing his hands together and resting his chin on his knuckles. “No one’s supposed to know about it except us. It’s kind of my job to keep it hidden.”

“Is that why you scare people away?”

“That’s exactly why.”

“But you’re telling me about it now.”

“Because Keith thinks highly of you.”

Lance blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Keith to think anything of him short of negative after all the trouble he’d put him through.

“Are you sure about that? Cause that’s not what I’m feeling,” Lance said with a vague gesture in the direction Keith had disappeared in. “He’s not really my biggest fan.”

“He might not be great at showing it, but if he didn’t think you were trustworthy, he would have never brought you here,” Shiro assured him. “And since Keith trusts you, I trust you too. You seem like a good kid. So, I’m okay with letting you in on a couple reasons as to why the Galra are harassing our planet.”

Lance couldn’t help bouncing a little in excitement. “So this castle’s a real thing.”

“It is, but it’s not what you think it is. The castle’s the last remaining artifact of an ancient alien civilization that was wiped out thousands of years ago. It’s a bit of a scientific anomaly and the Galra want it for that reason. I can’t tell you too much about it because, well, I’m no expert, but also because there’s just some secrets I can’t give away.”

 “Yeah, okay, I understand,” Lance nodded, feeling a little underwhelmed. It was more of an answer than he was expecting, but not receiving the full picture—again—was consistently frustrating. He was having a hard time picturing what Shiro could possibly be describing, but the minimal details he was provided with made the stony walls and towers of a medieval keep evaporate from his mind, at least. He wasn’t really sure what to make of it, in the end.

“I will say this, though. Sometimes the castle’s here and sometimes it’s not,” Shiro continued, providing zero aid to Lance’s struggling understanding. “Right now it’s not on Earth and there’s no telling when it will be back. Fortunately for us, it produces a weird rogue energy that’s impossible for Galra scanners to read because they lack the technology to decipher the signature, so it creates a sort of dead zone that we’re safe to be in, and it sticks around even when the castle’s gone. You’re more than welcome to stay here until we find you a way back to the Garrison, so maybe you’ll be lucky enough to see it before you go.”

Lance gave up trying to make sense of Shiro’s words and grinned enthusiastically at the man instead. “Man, don’t give me reasons to stay! My friends said they’d kill me if I didn’t make it back soon, but they’d have a trip if they knew about this!”

“Lance.”

Lance stiffened immediately, catching onto the warning simmering in the man’s tone. He crossed the line again. He swallowed thickly, tentatively meeting the man’s piercing gaze. “Yeah?”

“Keith brought you here because he trusts you. I’m telling you these things because _I_ trust you. Put that into practice—you can’t tell _anyone_ about this. Not about us, not about the castle, not about what you’ve been through with the Galra. We can’t afford the Garrison finding out about us. If the Garrison knows we’re here, they’ll look for us. If they find us, the Galra will find us. If the Galra find us, it’s over for Earth. The Garrison is the only thing standing in the way of a full-scale invasion simply because it’d slow down their search for the castle, but once they know where we are, they’re going to hit hard. You _cannot_ give the Garrison a reason to accelerate a conflict because their defenses are _nothing_ compared to the firepower the Galra possess. Do you understand me? You cannot tell _anyone.”_

Lance hunched within himself as Shiro barraged him with a steady, dangerous calm. He recognized the expression the man wore—it was similar to how Keith looked the previous morning during their discussion about the town invasion. There was something fiercely protective in his eyes, and Lance had the feeling he had inadvertently threatened something important to him.

“Y-Yes,” Lance nodded quickly, having to make a mental effort not to follow up with _sir._ The commanding undertone of Shiro’s voice and the strength of his delivery shockingly reminded Lance of his commanding officers back at the Garrison. He had the urge to salute purely out of habit. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I—I’d never actually tell my friends about this stuff. I haven’t even told them about Keith.”

Shiro’s eyes softened then and his expression quickly followed. “Thank you. I don’t mean to snap, it’s just a tough situation. You seem like a smart kid.”

Lance ducked his head to hide his bashful smile. “Thanks, I’m just . . . taking it as it comes, you know?” His smile faltered. “So, what do we do, then? The Galra are still threatening people.”

“You let us handle it. We know more about how to handle the Galra than you might think.”

The thought of two men being the only line of defense between the Galra and a total planetary wipeout wasn’t super reassuring, but the confidence in Shiro’s eyes and the strength of his voice had Lance reconsidering his doubts. It was troubling, but he also had no idea what the two were capable of.

“You’ve still got tar marks on your face, so if you want to wash up, the lake’s about a mile that way,” Shiro said, changing the subject and pointing past his tree home. “I was planning on heading there soon so I can deal with this rug on my face. I can meet you there after I grab some things.”

Lance scratched at his scruff in whole-hearted agreement as he slid off the rock. “I can relate. I haven’t been able to shave in like four days.”

“Yeah? Try three months. Don’t need a razor as a lion, but unfortunately I still age when I’m not human.”

“I _wish_ I didn’t need a razor for three months,” Lance said, but frowned as realization hit him. “Wait, _three months?_ But Keith can only—”

He turned back to Shiro, but the man was gone. “Shiro?” He called out, circling the boulder Shiro had just been sitting on and finding no trace of the man. He straightened, floored at being left behind so quickly, and wondered if Keith could pull off a vanishing act just as flawlessly. Maybe it was a lion thing.

He shrugged off Shiro’s disappearing act and headed back to the tree hut for his phone. He was surprised to find the man already inside and picking his way through the junk scattered across the floor, and wondered how he’d snuck past him so quickly and easily. Lance shook his head and unplugged his phone from one of the weird devices Keith had hooked it up to the night previous, pleased to find it fully charged. He sent a quick text to Pidge promising to get in touch later and pocketed the device before exiting the tree and heading toward the lake.

The walk was peaceful, and fortunately for him there was plenty to look at. Unfortunately for him there was _too_ much to look at and he tripped over half a dozen tree roots and gave himself plenty of reminders of the hardships he’d endured two days ago. He slowed whenever his attention wandered—and it did many times—and he found himself captivated with the colors of the forest and the sunlight filtering through the towering trees. That is, until he smacked his forehead on an obstructing branch, and he unleashed a string of shrill cursing as he rubbed at the tender spot.

It was nearly an hour by the time he made it to the clearing and he was feeling uncomfortably sore from the hike. The lake’s surface reflected the nearby trees, depicting a rippling mirror world of the daytime forest in the water. It wasn’t as dazzling as seeing millions of stars dance in inky black, but it was pretty nonetheless. Lance spotted Shiro already at the lake’s edge, kneeling on the bank and leaning over the water, and gaped.

How the hell did Shiro beat him there.

“I could hear you cussing from half a mile away,” Shiro said without turning around as Lance approached.

“I hit my head on a branch. Was I that loud?”

“Well, my ears might be better tuned than most, but. Yeah, you were pretty loud.”

Lance came to a stop behind Shiro, taking in the few objects that sat around him. A small towel lay at his feet with a can of shaving cream nested in it, and a pair of wireless electric clippers were discarded in the sand next to the towel. Shiro’s hair was noticeably trimmed, the white forelock no longer hanging in his eyes, and nearly buzzed down to the skin just below the crown of his head. Lance leaned over Shiro’s shoulder to gaze down at their paired reflections in the water and he could see Shiro’s mirrored form steadily dragging a razor across his cream-covered jaw as he used the water’s image to guide his hand.

He hadn’t just beat him there. He’d _been_ there for some time. Damn, the guy was fast.

“So . . . three months, huh?” Lance asked as he took a seat next to Shiro, casting his gaze across the lake’s crystalline surface. The water was so clear. “You were a lion for three months?”

“That’s right,” Shiro answered, the word coming out a little stiff as he held his jaw still while dragging the razor down his cheek. He finished the stroke and said, “I’m on my own a lot, so it’s easier to just let the lion take over so I can survive out here. Sometimes it feels weird being human again.”

“But Keith can’t hold it for that long.”

“Keith hasn’t had it for nearly as long as I have. It’s fully integrated into my system.”

“How long have you had this power?”

“Nearly a decade.”

Lance gaped. “Holy _shit.”_

Shiro laughed. “Yeah. Long time, huh? It feels like a lifetime.”

“So you don’t have those weird urges like Keith, right?”

“Not really, no. Those mostly wore off years ago. Keith’s body’s still adjusting to the lion, so he has to roll with the punches in the meantime. He’s got all this energy made for something five times his size compacted into his body and there isn’t anywhere for it to go. It can be intense.” Shiro finished another stroke and flicked the shaving cream off the razor, the droplets splattering across the water’s surface. The movement of his prosthetic was so fluid and precise, and Lance found himself pondering its origin for the second time that day. “Think of it as like a second puberty, but fifty times worse.”

Lance decided not to bring up the false arm, unsure how he’d approach such a personal topic. “Is that why he’s so moody all the time?”

Shiro barked out a laugh. “Part of it. The other part’s just Keith.”

Lance grinned before standing, stretching his arms high above his head to ease the ache in his muscles and straightening his spine as he gazed out across the water. He might not get much insight on the mysterious castle but learning about the lion power was certainly interesting enough. Maybe Shiro could tell him something about Keith the boy would never reveal himself. Lance grabbed the collar of his shirt before tugging it over his head and discarding it in the grass, then went to work on his shoes.

“You going all in?” Shiro asked as he watched him curiously.

“Hell yeah. I’ve gotten two showers during this whole adventure and I’m not gonna pass up a chance to submerge myself now.”

“I thought you’ve been away from the Garrison for only three days. Two showers seems pretty reasonable.”

“Hey, you don’t know my routine. You don’t know the effort I put into this,” Lance said with a gesture to his own face. He shucked off his socks and considered his pants, but the sun seemed to beat down hard enough in the clearing for quick drying so he left them on and rolled the cuffs to his knees instead. He leaned out over the water’s edge, determining how quickly the small lake deepened from the shore. It wasn’t very far before the depths were too dark to see.

“The water’s probably still cold this time of day,” Shiro said, not paying Lance any mind as Lance took several steps away from the edge. “You might want to wash quickly and get out while the sun’s high—”

Lance cut him off with a whoop that echoed off the trees as he launched himself off the bank and cannonballed into the water.

The water shocked him because, yes, it was really cold, but the weightlessness that accompanied it was a heavenly embrace and made it totally worth it. He hadn’t swum since he was in high school before he got accepted into the Garrison, and naturally a space exploration campus in the desert wouldn’t include any pools. The desert itself was definitely no help, and the Hotspot oasis’ watering hole was hardly deep enough to satisfy. He missed the feeling so much.

He kicked to the surface before breaking it, his skin immediately chilling from the air on his wet face. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and beamed at Shiro, who was glaring at him. Lance could see beads of water trailing down his skin and dripping from his hair, having been caught in the crossfire of Lance’s explosive entrance into the lake.

“You know, I’m still in the middle of something,” Shiro deadpanned, pointing to his half-shaven face.

Lance grinned sheepishly, unable to feel too apologetic in his bliss. “Sorry. I won’t make too many waves.”

The man begrudgingly returned his eyes to the water’s edge. Lance, true to his word, positioned himself on his back and let the water gently carry him as he gazed at the sky.

“So, how long have you known Keith?” he asked, hoping to make conversation to fill the silence and push the topic back toward Keith. The boy was too mysterious and it drove him crazy.

“Three years,” he heard Shiro answer. “I actually found him right after he became a lion. He’d already been stuck in the form for four days and he was not thrilled when I suddenly showed up.”

“I thought Keith had to change back after a while.”

“Now he does, sure, but back then the power was too new to him and his body couldn’t figure out how to manage it. I had to teach him how to change back. He was lucky because when I first changed I was stuck as a lion for nearly a month.”

“Good thing he had you. I’m guessing you were on your own when you got it.”

Shiro remained curiously quiet to that and it caught Lance’s attention.

“Unless there’s other lions running around that I didn’t know about.”

“There’s no other lions. Believe me, I’d know,” Shiro said. Lance was left pondering over the man’s selective silence, but figured it wasn’t worth dwelling on. He probably wouldn’t get a straight answer anyway.

“You should have seen him, though,” Shiro suddenly added, and Lance could hear a smile in his voice, “back when the power was new to him. His lion was much smaller and he had no hair. Like an oversized kitten. And he was so clumsy.”

_That_ Lance was definitely tucking away for later.

“Still had some gnarly claws. Scratched my arm up pretty badly when I tried to coax him out of the cave I found him in.”

Lance could feel the temperature of the water finally getting to him—he shivered as the chill began seeping deeper. Eager to warm up soon, he righted himself in the water and began scrubbing at the marks on his arm, grimacing when his scratches stung. “Was he angry all the time back then too?”

He glanced up at Shiro when the man didn’t respond immediately. Shiro patiently guided the razor across his jaw before meeting Lance’s eyes.

“You should probably understand something since you’re here and since you’ve been hanging around him for a while,” Shiro said, and Lance stopped scrubbing at his skin to offer his full attention. “It’s not easy for Keith to deal with. The lion, I mean. He’s had the power for three years now but it’s still in the developing stages. He’s irritable and feisty because he can’t help it. He’s not in control a hundred percent of the time, either. Sometimes it’s the lion thinking for him—always looking for a fight.”

Lance remained quiet as he listened, all traces of humor gone with the soberness of Shiro’s voice. He thought back to the Galra carrier—Keith had been desperate to bring him to safety but he was certain Keith had been itching to fight the Galra the entire time. Keith had only wanted to protect him, and as soon as he gave Keith a green light, the boy went off like an overdue bomb. He probably had a field day in that carrier, especially when nothing on that ship could contest his power. Blowing the ship up was just insult to injury.

“Yeah, I guess I can see that,” Lance said.

“Just go easy on him, okay? I know he can be a handful, but there’s a lot going on underneath. Being a lion is rough. It’s hard for him to be patient.” Shiro smiled warmly. “And thank you for being a companion to him. I know it’s just a matter of circumstance, and you might not get along all the time, but I’m glad he’s had someone to look after him. I don’t like that he isolates himself in the desert.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance said with a shrug, “he’s not so bad if I ignore everything he says.”

“Funny. He said something similar about you last night. You two might pair better together than you might think.”

“Yeah, sure.” Lance continued scrubbing at his arms until he couldn’t see any black, then ducked beneath the water and blindly rubbed at his face in hopes of removing as much as possible. He resurfaced and slicked his hair out of his eyes to find Shiro watching him, towel in hand and freshly shaven. He looked so much younger without the grayed patches of his beard hiding his face.

“You missed a spot,” he said, pointing to a spot below his eye, and Lance wiped at it with his fingers. Shiro shook his head, “Other side.” He smiled after Lance finished, and Lance took it as a successful cleaning. “I can walk you back, if you’re ready.”

Lance eyed the razor hanging between the man’s fingers, suddenly too aware of the hairs growing on his face. “Actually, can I borrow your razor first?”

 

  
“Okay, I asked Keith this question but he was in a mood so he didn’t answer cause he’s an asshole—” Shiro suppressed a snort and it made Lance smile, “—but does it hurt when you transform?”

“No.”

“Wait, seriously? At all?”

“Not at all. It feels great, actually.”

Shiro had followed through on his promise to make the journey back with Lance, being so patient as to wait for Lance to shave, and even more so as he kept pace with Lance’s slow, aching gait. Lance had taken the opportunity to inquire about more lion things, and he was pleased with how willing Shiro was to answer him. It seemed that nosing for an explanation to the Galra’s interest or more about the mysterious castle were off limits, but traits about the lions were free game. Lance happily indulged in his curiosity with whatever questions came to mind while blissfully running his fingers over his satisfyingly-smooth face. It helped him understand some of the weird tendencies Keith had.

“It looks painful,” Lance shrugged.

“Our bodies have had plenty of time to adjust to it. Now, the first few times? Different story.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Oh yeah. It was excruciating. It wasn’t like how it is now where it’s almost instant. It was really slow and I could feel every change my body went through to make the change. I passed out my first time.” He breathed out a laugh. “Try waking up and suddenly having a tail. It’s not fun.”

“It sounds horrible.”

“Maybe at first, but you adjust over time and it becomes second nature. Now it’s as much a part of us as the rest of us.”

An erect branch on a fallen trunk clipped Lance’s leg as they pushed their way through brush, and he swore as the tender burn was scraped against by rough bark. He doubled over with a hiss as stinging pain flared along his skin, hands clutching around the burn but knowing better than to apply direct pressure.

Shiro was suddenly there with a hand on his back, slightly bent beside him in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just kicked a branch,” he seethed as the throbbing slowly eased. He gestured to the charred hole in his pants and said, “That’s where the sentry hit me before I fell. Honestly, the road hurt worse.”

“I can carry you the rest of the way.”

“That’s okay, I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad—” Lance suddenly became aware of something very heavy above him, and he whipped his head around to find himself staring into the burning eyes of the massive black lion. He started with a yelp and the beast curled its lips in what he assumed was an amused smile.

The lion wasn’t quite what he remembered. The mane that flowed from the beast’s head was noticeably clipped, shorter and neater than the wild, tangled mass of hair from the night before. It also helped reveal the dulled scars that stretched over the lion’s skin, the raised flesh barren of fur and very visible against dark fur.

On Shiro, the scars were unsettling, but on the lion, they only added to the beast’s powerful image.

“Well, since you’re offering,” Lance shrugged brightly before drawing up beside Shiro as the lion lowered himself to the ground. He jumped onto the lion’s side like the night before, but this time he didn’t have Keith’s help and ended up sliding off. A couple failed attempts later and Shiro showed mercy by carefully lifting him onto his back.

Shiro was too wide to straddle unlike Keith had been, so Lance settled for crossing his legs together and anchoring himself using Shiro’s mane. The mighty lion rose to all fours and ambled through the trees, and Lance happily took in the surrounding forest from his new vantage point.

It wasn’t long before Lance bored himself with the scenery. He already missed conversing with Shiro, finding the man’s insight and wit enjoyable, as well as giving him something steady to focus on. Knowing Shiro could still understand him, despite the fact that he wouldn’t understand Shiro, Lance began talking aloud.

“If I were a lion, I’d totally live out here too. Or maybe somewhere down south where it’s really warm. You clearly have a better grasp on real-estate than Keith does—seriously, the desert? What can you do in the desert? There’s _nothing_ in the desert. And there’d have to be a lot of water cause I like swimming. I hope being a big cat doesn’t make you hate water cause that’d suck. I’d also catch tons of fish. Do you eat fish? I love fish. And seafood. Maybe I’d live on the coast or something.”

And he continued talking openly to the forest as Shiro carried him back to his camp. He allowed his mind to wander, taking him on tangents and letting them idly flow from his mouth. He talked about his course of study at the Garrison, about his affinity for space, about his family back home. He talked about his friends, about Hunk’s cooking or Pidge’s computer skills, about his hobbies, about girls he liked, about Keith. Easy, carefree things far away from the topic of Galra and all the trouble they’ve brought and could bring.

Sometime along the way his position switched and he lay on his back with his hands behind his head, watching the trees slowly draw further away as they passed. Shiro would occasionally input with a small growl to let Lance know he was still listening. Lance’s words didn’t feel empty or pointless even if the conversation was one-sided or if he was just spouting whatever came to mind to the open air, because he could feel that Shiro cared about what he was saying. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he droned on.

The smell of lingering smoke eventually reached Lance’s nose, and before long Shiro was pulling into camp. He hopped off of Shiro’s back and stretched, feeling full of energy despite the lazy trip back. When he turned around, the lion was gone and Shiro stood beside him.

“Feeling better?” Shiro asked, gesturing to the hole in Lance’s pants.

Lance nodded eagerly. “I feel great, actually.”

“Glad to hear it.” Shiro smiled before heading toward his tree. “That was quite an informative walk.”

Lance dipped his head bashfully as he followed, his smile only growing wider. “Sorry about rambling on about myself. I just like talking, you know?”

“And I liked listening. It’s nice having some company around for a change, and Keith isn’t a huge talker. I think I know more about you now than I do him.”

Lance could see Keith’s prone tail sticking out from the tree as they neared. Reaching the tree revealed the crimson lion splayed out in a slumbering heap just inside the entrance, deep snores echoing off the mossy walls.

“He didn’t make it very far, did he?” Shiro mumbled to Lance before stepping over Keith’s tail and pushing his way past the obstacle in his doorway. Lance followed suit, shoving at the lion to give him enough room to enter, and Keith grunted noisily in his sleep before rolling over and lying spread-eagle. It was amazing how much room his oversized body hoarded without even trying, but at least he was out of the way.

“I’m going to get dressed and head to town for some things,” Shiro announced as he picked his way through some of the junk on the floor, pulling up some of the clothes scattered about. “I’ll pick up some food for you. You hungry?”

The question made Lance suddenly aware of how hungry he actually was, and he pressed a hand to his stomach as the emptiness hit him all at once. He was getting used to meals being few and far between, but he was pushing almost a full day without something to eat. The question was generous, but the reminder was beyond painful.

“God, yes,” he answered passionately, a little nauseous from his hunger suddenly coming full force. “How far is town?”

“About twenty miles from here.”

Lance groaned wearily. Twenty miles was twenty miles, and regardless of if Shiro went on foot or lion foot, it’d be a long, agonizing wait. He remembered Shiro talking about the dead zone and knew that at some point he’d have to drop the lion anyway.

He could bear it, though. He almost got kidnapped by aliens. He’d had worse.

“Do you want anything else while I’m there?” Shiro asked, kicking at a backpack tucked away behind one of the weird machines, each hand holding an article of clothing.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe . . . like a toothbrush? And toothpaste? It’s been, you know. Three days since.” He felt kind of bad for asking, even if Shiro was offering, but his morning breath was no longer a lingering annoyance. It was just constant at that point and it was driving him crazy.

“You got it. I’ll pick one up for Keith too. He probably hasn’t brushed his teeth since I last saw him.”

Lance glanced over at Keith lying on the floor, mouth hanging open as the lion snored and revealing long, stained teeth. Lance gagged before shuffling away, exiting the tree and allowing Shiro some privacy as he changed. He decided Shiro’s absence would be a good opportunity to go over a game plan with Pidge and shot the boy a text to be on standby for a video call.

He lounged on a nearby log until Shiro exited the tree. The man wore dark jeans and a black collared shirt, though lacked an undershirt. An old pair of boots covered his feet and his right hand now adorned a glove, hiding his prosthetic. He was a far sight from the grizzled man Lance had woken up to in the morning and it was impossible to tell that a hulking beast lay dormant beneath his skin. Save for the grayed patch of hair and the scar on his face, he looked totally normal.

Shiro bid him farewell before wandering in the opposite direction, and Lance realized with a sense of hopelessness that he’d likely not transform dressed like that. That meant that Lance would be waiting a good stretch of time before he could eat something. He threw his head back and moaned miserably to the sky.

Whatever. He’d had worse. It won’t kill him.

He kept repeating that to himself.

Turns out hyping himself up did a shit job of easing his hunger so he focused on the task he laid out for himself instead. Which was calling Pidge and giving him an update. Shiro wouldn’t be an issue but Lance moved away from the camp anyway, hoping to talk openly without worrying about waking Keith and potentially saying something compromising that might set the boy off.  He found a tree set a good distance away, pressed his back to it and slid to a sitting position before crossing his legs. He pulled up Pidge’s contact information, confirming the boy was online and active, and requested a video chat.

“Paging Dr. Gunderson and Nurse Holt,” Lance sang as the cousins popped up on his screen.

“Why am I the nurse?” Matt frowned from behind Pidge.

“Lance, where the hell are you now? Is that a tree?” Pidge asked while his eyes darted around the screen in an attempt to see Lance’s surroundings. “You’re not in the desert anymore, are you? Weren’t you supposed to be getting _closer_ to the Garrison, not farther?”

“Look, it’s been a complicated trip and I ran into some setbacks. I promise I’ll probably be back soon.”

“What do you mean _‘probably’”?_ We’re walking on thin ice with the Galra as it is and you’re just parading across the whole damn country! The Garrison needs to hear it from you. They need to know what happened in that town so they can be prepared, and I can’t cover for your ass forever!”

“Prepared for _what?_ Utter annihilation?! Because that’s what’s going to happen if the Garrison picks a fight with the Galra!” Lance snapped, and the cousins recoiled in surprise at his sudden change of mood. He rubbed his tired eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself as he gathered his thoughts. He had to tread carefully.

“Look, I was on that ship, and I’ve seen the weapons they use. We know they have robot soldiers. They have a dispensable army. That ship was packing and it was the equivalent to a _cargo ship._ Who knows what a Galra warship looks like? Probably a hell of a lot scarier. On top of that, the Galra have the entirety of space at their disposal, and if they hit us, there’s nowhere to run. We’re cornered. We can’t win a war with the Galra. We shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea.”

“So what do you want the Garrison to do, then? Sit in the dark and do _nothing?”_ came Matt’s incredulous reply.

“Yes, Matt, holy shit, _yes,_ the Garrison _needs_ to sit this one out. If I tell them about the attack, they might declare war, and then we’re finished.”

Everything Shiro warned him about came rushing back, and backing up the man’s words out loud only served to further convince himself. Shiro was right—they didn’t stand a chance defensively. He feared to see just how far the Galra could go, and he didn’t want to find out. He had to convince Pidge and Matt to drop it for the sake of their planet.

It was just so difficult finding reasons to convince them without exposing the pair of lion men feeding him all his information.

“Just trust me,” Lance pleaded, “there are forces that can contest the Galra and keep us safe. We just have to let them do their thing.”

Pidge narrowed his eyes. “What have you been up to, McClain? What have you been learning?”

“Look, it’s hard to explain—”

“Lance, who’s that?” Matt pointed over Pidge’s shoulder, both boys now looking past Lance.

Lance froze, suddenly _very_ aware of the presence tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. He swallowed thickly before slowly glancing over his shoulder, eyes wandering up to find Shiro leaning casually against the tree, arms crossed and calmly watching him. The man offered him a smile and gave a little wave of his fingers.

Lance smacked his head against the trunk of the tree with an inward groan. Shiro’s magic trick shit was getting old.

“He’s, um . . .” Lance stammered, uncertain how to approach introducing Shiro. He had never intended for his friends to find out about the lions but Shiro just _waltzes up without a goddamn care—_

“I’m a friend,” Shiro answered for him, dropping the backpack from his shoulder before kneeling down to Lance’s level. He turned to Lance and rattled his bag, “I got food.”

Lance gaped at him. There was . . . _no way_ Shiro could have traveled that distance in such a short period of time. He’d said _twenty miles_ and it’d only been about half an hour—

“I knew it,” he heard Pidge say and he glanced back at the phone to find Pidge grinning smugly at him. He had the feeling he’d been caught in some scheme.

“Knew what?” he asked tentatively.

“I knew you had someone helping you. You couldn’t have possibly survived all this time on your own.”

. . . Alright, well, Pidge was still a little misinformed, but Lance decided he’d let the kid go on believing it. At least Shiro was a presentable adult and it was more plausible he’d know what he was doing than Keith, who looked like he lived under a bridge. So long as he didn’t freak out that Lance was chilling with some random stranger, Lance was fine with it.

“Okay, yeah. Whatever. I made a friend so I wouldn’t die. Big deal,” Lance admitted with a roll of his eyes. He sighed through his nose before gesturing to Shiro, “Pidge, Matt, this is Shiro. He’s a cool guy I ran into after the desert. Shiro—” Lance gestured in turn to the boys on screen, “—the short one’s Pidge and that’s Matt. They’re friends of mine from the Garrison. Sort of.”

Sort of as in Matt wasn’t a student at the Garrison anymore and he also wasn’t really a friend of Lance’s. Lance wasn’t in much of a mood to correct himself, though, and let it hang in the air.

“The Garrison, huh?” Shiro said, knowingly smiling down at the boys. “I used to be a Garrison pilot myself.”

Lance blinked at Shiro in time with Pidge and Matt’s exclamations.

“What?!”

“No way!”

“Yep,” Shiro nodded. “Space exploration. I’ve traveled all over the solar system.”

The two cousins began chattering excitedly to him, bombarding him with questions about the occupation and the things he’d seen or the places he’d been, completely forgetting their conversation with Lance. Lance was left to stare at Shiro in wonder, realizing he knew nothing of the man’s past or what sort of life he lived before acquiring the power. Lance never would have guessed the man to have connections to the Garrison, and he watched silently as Shiro answered each question with ease, providing details to help sate the rabid curiosity directed at him from the phone.

Or maybe Shiro was just a really talented liar.

Lance was grateful that the boys’ attention was no longer on him or his position concerning his coming home, but he couldn’t help feeling a little miffed at being shoved aside in favor of Shiro’s former career as an exploration pilot. Shiro had settled himself down next to Lance in a similar sitting position as he talked, and it wasn’t long before Lance handed him the phone and vacated his spot. He rifled around in Shiro’s backpack and pulled out the first bit of junk food he could find, which was a packaged honey bun, and idly chewed at it as he continued listening.

His attention wandered, and soon so did he. He shouldered the backpack and meandered through the forest in the general direction of Shiro’s tree. He found Keith still asleep inside, so he sat himself close by and pulled out a bag of nuts—hoping to alleviate his boredom, he began tossing the nuts at Keith one at a time, aiming for the lion’s gaping mouth as he snored.

It didn’t make him any less bored, but it was entertaining at least. Keith twitched in his sleep every time a nut hit his face, his brow scrunching or his ear flicking or his lip curling. Lance tried to imagine the hulking beast as a scared kitten like Shiro had described and smiled at the mental image.

He finally managed a successful throw when a nut disappeared between Keith’s teeth and the lion bolted upright before violently snorting. Lance doubled over in laughter before yelping in pain as Keith’s tail whipped him across the head. Keith retreated to the far side of the tree with a snarl after that, as far away as possible from Lance, and curled in on himself with an arm positioned protectively over his head.

It was some time before Shiro returned with Lance’s phone. “I like them,” the man said with a smile as he handed the phone over to Lance. “Very smart, very persistent. Not so great for me, but good for the Garrison.”

“That’s Pidge Gunderson for you,” Lance replied drily. “Thanks for getting them off my back, by the way. I don’t really know how to convince them that this isn’t a fight we can win without exposing you guys.”

“Are you good friends with them?”

“Well, yeah, with Pidge. Matt’s his cousin so sometimes he’s just there.”

“Then you don’t need to convince them. If they value you as a friend, then they’ll trust you.” Shiro placed a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I know it’s a hard secret to keep. You have no idea how grateful I am that you’re willing to keep it for our sake.”

Lance beamed up at Shiro, a stupid grin on his face he couldn’t seem to resist. He didn’t receive a lot of positive attention from his superiors at the Garrison, but hearing it from Shiro made him swell with pride. He chuckled shyly, “Yeah, I’d hate for you guys to get killed by the Galra. And I like living too, so it’d suck if Earth suddenly blew up. Wouldn’t want that to happen, right?”

Shiro fixed him with a wry smile. “Right.”

“Were you really a Garrison pilot?”

Shiro dropped his hand from Lance’s shoulder and looked out toward the sky, eyes growing distant with memories. “A long time ago.”

Movement caught Lance’s eye and he glanced down to see Shiro idly fidgeting with his glove, the one that covered his prosthetic. He had the strong urge to finally voice his curiosity over the artificial limb but the words died on his tongue when he noticed the wistful look on Shiro’s face as the man stared at something he couldn’t see.

A moment passed and Shiro shook himself out of his thoughts and turned back to Lance. “Want to learn what some of the stuff in the tree does?”

The change of subject wasn’t lost on Lance but he didn’t mention it. “You mean all that weird junk sitting in there?”

“Yeah. It’s alien tech. I’ll let you play with it.”

He grinned. Pidge would be _so_ jealous of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i was doing great for like two seconds after summer started and then my allergies just hit me like a truck sometime in early june. i was absolutely miserable for the longest time and i was unable to focus on writing because i was constantly so tired, and i also began working again which only added to drain me so i've had no energy or motivation to write or draw. on top of all that my mom broke her foot lol so i've been attending to her a lot so she doesn't have to move around too much so a lot of my free time was reserved there. my video game addiction also kicked in pretty hard and that wasn't much help. underneath everything i just couldn't get myself to be satisfied with this chapter. i rewrote it like twice idk what it was i just wasn't happy with it. i'm okay with it now but i still think it could have been better, but at least it's finally done and i feel like i have a huge weight off my shoulders. i've got an image sketched out and i'll get around to it but for now i'm just going to leave this chapter un-illustrated so i can actually post something and focus on writing the next chapter. this chapter's kind of hefty in word count woopsies :)
> 
> cool thing though: i've hit 50,000 words on this shit. which is like three times the amount of words i've ever written for anything and i'm only just starting lol. i've mentally mapped out where i want this story to go and end and season 6 did in fact have me shook so i made some major adjustments to include some new canon. i'm just so fucking relieved i can enjoy the show again i was just hanging on for the characters at this point cause the story was such a mess but all those concluded subplots just. thank you dreamworks holy FUCK


	9. Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance discovers a way to track down the rogue Galra ship and Keith makes his own plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh i've had a cold for a while now and it just makes me want to sleep. the yucky thing is i've had this written for like a week but i just haven't had it in me to edit it because i couldn't retain anything i read and therefore was unable to make many edits. finally just hunkered down and did it hopefully it's okay. no image for this chapter yet (i've got a couple in the works right now for this chapter and previous and next but cold's been dragging me down) so i'll get throwing those in soon. i go back to school this saturday (finally omg) so i'm hoping for plenty of down time in the next week after i'm moved in. and i have very mixed feelings about season 7 thanks have a good day

“So Shiro told you about the castle, huh?”

“That’s a generous assumption. Do I know it exists? Sure. Do I have any idea what it is? No clue.”

It was obvious in the way Lance drily gestured with his hand that he wasn’t very satisfied with whatever Shiro had let him in on. Keith was surprised Lance received anything, let alone as much as he had.

“He _did_ tell me a bunch of stuff about the lion power though. Why were you so against telling me anything?”

Keith answered through a mouthful of jerky, “I don’t know what he’s comfortable revealing, so I’m just leaving it up to him. I feel like he never would have mentioned the castle at all if I hadn’t said anything about it to you to begin with.”

Keith leaned back in the chair he was lounging in, hearing the iron creak as the back legs received his entire weight once the front had left the ground. Lance sat across from him, slouched in his own seat and snacking on some pastry Shiro had brought back the day before while he stared up at the ceiling of the truck stop.

It wasn’t that they had any reason to return to the place, but it did give them something to do. There wasn’t a whole lot of activity to be had in Shiro’s forest aside from scenic wandering, so the boys revisited the stop simply for a change of pace. Escaping Shiro had been a chore for Keith and he was barraged by nagging before finally managing to break away ( _“Don’t get into any trouble.” “Keep Lance close by.” “Keith, for the love of God, please put a belt on.”_ ). Sporting Lance’s jacket again and the belt Shiro had all but physically forced on him, they’d been relatively unassuming as they made their way across the parking lot.

They were sure to offer cheeky waves to the employee who had warned them about monsters to show the old man that, yes, they did in fact live, bitch. But their boredom had quickly caught up and they were drawn to a lone table in a corner of the store to chatter about alien magic.

“Yeah, but you’re so closed up about the lion thing too,” Lance replied to the ceiling.

“I don’t know what parts are safe to disclose or what might link back to the castle. It’s kind of complicated.” Lance was eerily quiet after that and Keith could practically hear the gears turning in his head as Lance picked through the words. Shit, he said something wrong.

“Link back? Are you connected somehow?”

Keith threw his head back with an inward groan. He did so much better when he just kept his mouth shut. Shiro was way better at the whole cryptic deal, and Lance was way too smart when it came to things that caught his curiosity. His eyes fell back to Lance to find the boy looking at him expectantly and sighed before leaning in closer and lowering his voice.

“Okay, don’t tell Shiro I told you this, but the castle’s where our powers come from. Don’t ask me any more than that.”

As far as Keith could tell, there wasn’t any harm revealing that much. Lance was still well in the dark on the matter and had already vowed not to tell a soul about what he’d learned. It’s not like the Galra didn’t know that fact already. He knew Shiro wouldn’t appreciate it, though.

“Okay. So, like, are the lion thing and the fire thing separate or was it all some packaged deal?”

“Didn’t I just tell you not to ask any more questions?”

“I’m not asking about the castle—I’m asking about _you._ That’s safe, right?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Yeah, the fire thing’s a perk of the lion.”

“So Shiro can do it too, right?”

“What? No, of course not. Fire’s _my_ thing. Shiro teleports.”

Lance inhaled to speak but froze once the words registered. He stared at Keith. _“What?”_

“Shiro can teleport,” Keith repeated drily. Lance’s eyes fell away and it was easy to tell that a million thoughts passed through his mind in the span of a few seconds as he stared distantly at a wall.

Keith nearly jumped out of his seat when Lance suddenly slammed his hand onto the table. _“That’s_ how he was doing it!” Lance exclaimed with a wild grin. Keith nearly cussed him out for shouting but the kid cut him off before he could even open his mouth, “I couldn’t figure out how he was getting around so fast yesterday but he was _teleporting!_ That makes so much more sense!” Lance kicked back in his chair with a pair of pumping fists.

“Feel free to announce it to the world, please,” Keith muttered irritably, nervously glancing around at the other patrons in the store that were milling about. They all appeared dead in the eyes and hardly paid any attention to Lance’s outburst, fortunately.

“I’m sorry, that’s just—” Lance brought his hands to his head as if to contain the revelation he just had. “That’s pretty fucking insane. _Teleporting?_ Sorry, man, but your power’s lame compared to that.”

“I’m immune to Galra weapons. I’d like to see Shiro take on a battalion of sentries and come out clean.”

“Yeah, but the sentries can’t shoot what they can’t hit. If Shiro’s teleporting all over the place it’s no big deal.”

“You don’t even know the limitations of his power.”

“What, is there like a cooldown or something?”

“Not really, but—”

“I rest my case. Cooler than yours,” Lance grinned smugly as he leaned back in his seat, popping the front legs off the ground similarly to how Keith had been sitting. Keith scowled at him but didn’t argue further, knowing it’d be a futile endeavor. He’d like to see _Shiro_ blow up a Galra ship with his bare hands.

“Yeah, okay, what I’m saying is that our powers are completely independent of each other. They’re unique to our own lions, and they follow, like, themes or something. Mine’s fire, and—”

“—Shiro’s is teleporting?” Lance supplied.

“Broader than that. Try like, space.”

Lance smiled excitedly back at him. “You know how incredible all this stuff is, right? This is _beyond_ known science. God, now I sound like Pidge, but—” Lance groaned and flung himself back against his chair. “And I’m not even allowed to tell anyone! Man, I’m really wishing I would have taken Hunk up on his offer to come with me that night when I went to the oasis. At least then I’d have someone to talk to about everything once I’m back at the Garrison.”

“Well, I still live in the desert, so, you know, if you ever need to talk about alien magic,” Keith shrugged, crossing his arms on the table and resting his chin on top of them. His nose wrinkled as Lance’s scent filled his nose—it wasn’t that he hated having to wear the jacket, though he absolutely did hate it, but it smelled so strongly of Lance that he couldn’t smell much else. Having one of his senses impaired was the price he had to pay for being in public, but he wished it were a little less persistent, especially when it was painfully obvious the jacket hadn’t been washed in days thanks to their little adventure.

He needed a new shirt. Maybe Shiro would get him one.

“You actually giving me permission to go back to your shack?” Lance asked with a crooked smile.

“Sure. If you can find it.”

Lance’s smile eased into something more content as he held Keith’s challenging gaze. “I might just take you up on that sometime.” His eyes lowered as his attention settled somewhere in his lap and Keith imagined him idly scrolling through his phone as they fell into a comfortable silence.

It wasn’t so bad now. It had been a shock to be around someone who wasn’t Shiro after spending so long in the desert by himself but he was slowly adjusting to always having the kid at his side. Sure, Lance still said annoying things, and he was still argumentative, and his attention span was near-nonexistent, but routine had eased his presence into less of a burden and more of an expectation. Lance was also much laxer than Shiro, and Keith couldn’t help feeling a little enabled around him.

That probably wasn’t a good thing, but, sometimes one’s gotta live a little.

A series of shrill beeps reached his sensitive ears and tore Keith away from his thoughts. He scowled irritably at Lance, only to find the kid still engaged with the phone in his lap.

“You playing games on your phone or something?” Keith said flatly. Lance glanced up with a frown.

“What? No. I don’t even have my phone on me. My friends called me earlier and asked to talk to Shiro cause I guess the guy’s _so interesting_ so I left my phone with him.”

Keith cocked an eyebrow at the way Lance rolled his eyes. He knew the kid totally hit it off with Shiro the day before and that the annoyance in his voice was entirely false. Lance was probably just irritated his friends wanted to talk to Shiro instead of him, and Keith couldn’t help feeling a little amused at the thought.

“So what’s making that sound?”

“Oh, this,” Lance said as he raised the offending device for Keith to see. Keith had seen it before—it was a handheld scanner programmed to identify Galra vessels with a range that reached some ways beyond the solar system. Its sleek white shell was grayed from neglect and the power veins, once a vibrant blue, now shone dim from within. It came from the castle but was an inefficient tool in comparison and Shiro had little reason to ever use it. So he didn’t.

“Shiro gave you his Galra scanner?” Keith asked curiously as he squinted at the muddied screen to try and make out its readings.

“Well, he didn’t _give_ it to me, but I’m borrowing it cause it’s pretty cool.” Lance turned the device back to him and played with the inputs. “He showed me a bunch of that weird alien junk in the tree and this thing seemed really simple to use so I was messing around with it last night. I got some readings of Galra on the edge of the solar system like he said I would but I found something weird this morning.”

“What’d you find?” Keith vacated his spot and rounded the table to stand next to Lance, leaning lower to better see the scanner’s screen.

“Okay, so these purple dots represent Galra ships, right?” Lance pointed to a series of dots at the edge of the screen and Keith nodded his affirmation. “Right, so I played around with the parameters a little bit and I scanned Earth on accident, but check this out.”

He snapped to a point on the virtual grid and minimized the viewing range until a single point of purple was isolated among a series of data strings that represented the earth.

“Do you think this is the carrier we blew up a few days ago?” Lance asked, turning to Keith. Keith didn’t answer him but continued staring at the dot on the screen, his eyes trying to make sense of the foreign letters and numbers scattered around it to give him any further hint of its location. It was all nonsense to him and helped him very little, but having a way to track down the crippled ship could be huge. They’d just have to figure it out. He felt his heartrate spike a little.

“Can you zoom in any farther?” Keith pressed, being sure to keep his excitement down until they had absolute confirmation of its whereabouts.

“Not a lot, no,” Lance answered as he forced the viewport to narrow only a little more to prove his point. “That’s what I was trying to figure out all day. I know it’s on Earth but I can’t figure out how to find it within an acute range. Also I can’t read any of this.”

“It’s in Altean. I can’t read it either.”

Lance glanced up at him. “Altean?”

“The alien civilization that doesn’t exist anymore, where the castle’s from. It’s called Altea and their language was Altean.”

Lance held up the device. “This came from the castle?”

There Keith went running his mouth again. “One thing at a time, please,” Keith scowled, more irritated at himself than anything but also thrumming with energy now that they had a lead on the carrier.

“Okay, sheesh. Any ideas on how to localize it?”

Keith studied the device. He only vaguely remembered how to use it, and his past attempts at utilizing the scanner had been mostly unsuccessful due to the Galra’s lesser activity at the time. But he did recall Shiro’s instructions on how to adapt the criteria to different functions and he wracked his brain for a solution.

“This would be easier with Pidge here,” Lance mumbled. “He could probably figure it out.”

“No, I think I can cheat at it. I need a landmark.”

Lance was silent for a moment. “Uh, like, Lake Tahoe?”

Keith glared at him. “Not _literally_ a landmark, just something that gives off a specific energy signature that I can zero in on. Something relatively close by, like the, um, like the Garrison’s deep space shuttles, or like—"

Then the answer hit him. “Like the castle.” He swiped the device out of Lance’s hand and ignored the outrage that sounded after. He began reprogramming the scanner’s search functions to single out the castle’s lingering energy and within minutes he had a new set of data.

He set the device on the table and pointed to the screen. “Check it out,” he said as he indicated to the dot, now blue and considerably bigger displayed among the black, its position just shy of where the purple had been. _“This_ is Shiro’s territory. This indicates the entire area where the castle’s energy flows.”

“Woah, woah, wait a second.” Keith glanced back at Lance to find him staring back in confusion. “I thought the castle’s energy wasn’t scannable.”

“The _Galra_ can’t scan the energy, but the Alteans invented it. Their technology was ages beyond what the Galra have now, even back then.”

“Oh, okay. That makes sense then. But what does the castle’s energy have to do with anything?”

“Do you remember where the scanner picked up the Galra?” Keith pointed at a blank space on the screen near the blue dot. “It was here. I think. Wherever it was, it was really close to the castle’s dead zone.”

“Alright, I see what you’re getting at. It’s close to us. Isn’t that a bad thing? You’re trying to keep the castle a secret or something and they’re almost on top of the dead zone.”

“There’s no way they know it’s there,” Keith assured him as he handed the scanner back. “The castle’s not even on Earth. They have nothing to find.”

“So what do we do about this? Tell Shiro?”

“No.” Keith stood and stretched, already wired with the plans he had set out. “Not yet. Let’s find it first before we say anything to him. No reason to get him worked up until we know where it is.”

Lance stood abruptly and leaned in close, startling Keith. His eyes were wide as he half-whispered, “You want to go _searching_ for this thing?! Shiro told us not to go after anymore Galra.”

“As guardians of the castle, it’s kind of important that we know where the Galra are. If there’s a carrier hanging out near the dead zone then we need to keep tabs on it, okay? It’s a necessity.”

That was partly a lie. Sure, they needed to stay vigilant on Galra activity, but staying hidden was a higher priority than keeping an eye on rogue ships. Shiro would throw a fit if he knew Keith wanted to go after the ship, especially after exposing himself to the entire fleet, but Keith also knew that the carrier couldn’t be allowed to stay so close to the castle’s dead zone.

And mostly he wanted to see just how much of the ship was destroyed in the explosion and how much survived.

Lance relented with a sigh before pocketing the scanner and gesturing to the store’s door in exasperation. “Whatever you say. Lead the way, Mr. Guardian.”

Keith was already on his way to the exit.

 

  
His momentum slowed almost immediately after stepping outside. He had no idea where to start.

The dead zone wasn’t exactly a small territory. Worse still, it didn’t have set boundaries. It was just a vast expanse of forest that the castle’s energy lingered around before fading at the edges. Their only lead was that the carrier was near the dead zone, but the rest was entirely guesswork. He couldn’t think of any effective way of searching short of aimless wandering.

The first step was getting back to the dead zone, and once Keith was back in familiar territory, he decided on a direction and began walking with Lance unquestioningly in tow. He had low hopes of finding the carrier quickly, especially with all the ground they had to cover, but the possibility kept him determined. He was going to find that ship.

It turned out to be painfully slow, more so than he was expecting. The scanner gave them no further clues and so was forgotten in favor of more wandering. Within the dead zone, he was able to go lion and speed things along some with Lance on his back, but he was forced to change back whenever he neared the withering edges of the territory. He still wasn’t entirely certain how their tracking system worked, or if the Galra were even still looking for him in their crippled state, but he couldn’t risk it.

On the other hand, if they _were_ still looking for him, he could coax them out of hiding with a single transformation outside of the dead zone. _That_ would help him find them for sure.

But he decided against it. That was a risky move, even for him. Better that he find them first without revealing his location lest they go on the warpath again.

He commended Lance for holding out as long as he did, but it was inevitable that the kid would begin questioning his methods. “You sure you know where we’re going?” he asked.

Outside of the dead zone, Keith was obligated to answer simply because he was physically capable. He wished he were a lion then. “Do I know where we are? Yeah, I do. Do I have any fucking clue where I’m going to find the Galra? Not a chance,” he answered mildly. It had been a couple hours since they began, and his patience had yet to thin, but he wanted to give off the impression that it was in hopes of dissuading Lance from asking too much.

Which was, of course, a futile endeavor. “What if it moved? Maybe we should just go back.”

Keith whirled on him, lacking any mood for an argument. _“You_ can go back. I’m gonna find that damn carrier.”

Lance paused to stare at him in surprise, caught off guard by the response. “I don’t know where the camp is from here,” he said weakly.

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me in the meantime. Come on, we’re almost back to the dead zone and then you can hop aboard.”

Keith did eventually pass the camp on their way to another edge of the dead zone. He gave Lance the option to bail but the kid decided to stick around—Keith had suspicions it was because Lance didn’t trust him to stay out of trouble if he did happen to find the ship, but he didn’t give his thoughts any voice. No reason for another argument. He decided not to comment when Lance casually shouldered his rifle with claims of “just in case.”

They spent countless hours out in the forest and Keith soon began feeling the effects of shifting so many times. His bones were starting to ache and his muscles felt unusually loose, slowing him down alongside the looming weight of fatigue settling over him. He was beginning to grow irritable from finding no signs of the ship. Lance, on the other hand, was greatly enjoying the scenery, especially when they reached the edges of the forest and were greeted with some rather breathtaking sights of valleys and mountain ranges.

Lucky him.

“I need a break,” Keith sighed sharply before slapping his back against a tree and sliding to the ground. He buried his face in his knees as he listened to Lance approach.

“For as long as we’ve been out, I’d say you had a pretty good run,” he heard him say. Keith uncurled and slouched back against the trunk, staring up at the changing sky poking through the tips of the trees. Dusk had begun settling some time ago and the forest floor was growing dark with waning light.

“I’m not used to changing so much,” Keith admitted. Lance sat down next to him and offered a piece of jerky. Keith took it, silently grateful that Lance had thought to hoard a ton of snacks in his jacket that morning. “It’s tiring,” he mumbled after taking a bite.

“Maybe we should call it a day.” It was a casual suggestion but it only reminded Keith how against the whole idea Lance was. Of course he wanted to give up and go home. That’d be the safest and easiest option.

Keith couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He was too beat for that, and it had been a long, uneventful, unsuccessful day. Maybe Lance was right—maybe it’d do him some good to rest and give it another shot the next day. He hated the idea of the carrier possibly getting away, but he wasn’t going to be of much use if he ran himself into the ground looking for it.

“Maybe,” he muttered in reply. It wasn’t like the ship was in peak condition; if it hadn’t broken atmosphere yet then it probably wasn’t in any shape to fly very far. He’d probably still have a chance.

Lance was quiet for a moment, and Keith took the opportunity to listen to the sounds around them—the chirps of birds in the air, the buzzing of bugs in the grass, the gentle whisper of wind through the trees. He missed this place.

“You know,” Lance said after a moment, “when I was aboard the carrier back in the desert, I actually saw the Garrison buggy.”

Keith glanced at him with a disbelieving smirk. “Seriously?”

“In the hangar, yeah. I couldn’t believe it.” Lance smiled ruefully to himself. “Just sitting there. Might have been able to take it if the ship hadn’t taken off.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I’m not mad or anything. What we did made it worth it. We saved all those people and blew a good chunk out of that thing. It was probably destroyed in the explosion, though.”

Keith thought for a moment. “Maybe not.”

“No?”

“You said it was in the hangar. I blew up the fuel lines, which were on the other side of the ship. The hangar might not have even been affected, I don’t know.”

“Well, if you ever decide to raid the ship, count me in. I wouldn’t mind taking it back,” Lance said lightly. It was clearly meant as a joke, but it provoked Keith just a little further. What if they _could_ recover it? What if they could rid their planet of Galra activity entirely? At least for the time being until the castle returned.

Keith was startled from his thoughts by Lance suddenly jumping to his feet and leaping to hang from a thick branch above his head. “What are you doing?” Keith asked mildly as he watched Lance kick wildly at the trunk to try and gain traction.

“Going up,” Lance answered with a strained smile. “I like heights, and I bet the view from up there shreds.”

“It does,” Keith smiled, knowing full well that Lance would never make it on his own. “But you’re not gonna see anything up there you haven’t already seen from today.”

“Cynical,” Lance shot back.

“I’m just saying.”

He watched with amusement as Lance struggled to pull himself up anyway, huffing and wheezing the entire way until his chest lay across the branch followed by swinging his feet up.

Lance sat up, his victorious grin dampened just a little by how hard he was breathing. “See? Easy peasy.”

Keith straightened and stretched his spine, smirking up at Lance whose smile fell just a little upon realizing the challenge he’d just invoked. Keith took a few steps back before launching himself at the trunk, his claws catching the bark with ease and carrying him several feet up before vaulting off to avoid the lost momentum. His fingers wrapped around the branch above Lance and he hauled himself to its base in one easy movement before settling down against the trunk. He gazed down smugly at Lance’s slack jaw, having exerted very little energy in comparison.

“Cool, hotshot, you’re part cat. Thanks for the reminder, showoff,” Lance huffed and Keith rolled his eyes good-naturedly before lying flat on the branch and offering a hand down. Lance glanced at it tentatively before returning to Keith’s eyes. At least the kid finally seemed to be learning some boundaries—it shouldn’t have taken him as long as it did, but now he seemed to be respecting his space.

Lance creased his brow suspiciously but took Keith’s outstretched hand. Keith had no issue rewarding the kid’s newfound consideration with a boost here and there—Lance yelped as Keith hauled him upwards, transforming mid-lift before tossing him onto his back. Lance immediately tangled his fingers into Keith’s fur to gain purchase and Keith allowed him a moment to adjust before slowly making his way up the trunk.

Lance would have never made it to the top on his own, and even with Keith’s help it’d take all night and he was _not_ about to have a repeat of the divide. Fortunately for him, Lance seemed to have no issue hitching a ride as Keith scaled the tree, exclaiming his gratitude through excited comments about the surrounding forest as they drew higher and higher. It grew lighter as they neared the sky, away from the ground shadowed by the towering trees, and it wasn’t long before they reached a point near the top that allowed them a view of everything.

The desert always felt special to Keith in a way the forest never could, likely because the desert was his own space while the forest belonged to Shiro. But he couldn’t deny the stunning scenery that the forest provided, especially from a high vantage point. Redwood trees of varying heights and widths dotted the landscape, thinning as they descended into valleys or ascended with the rocky slopes of the mountains. The choppy surface of a river, sparkling with the setting sun, cut through one of the valleys, splashing the greens and browns with a touch of blue.

The sky was the same as it was in the desert—orange on the horizon before transitioning to a red, then a purple before fading into black behind them. It reminded Keith that home was never far away, regardless of where it was at the time.

“Wow,” Lance breathed from behind, throwing an arm over Keith’s head to help himself to a better position for viewing. “Way better than the desert.”

Keith felt a tinge of annoyance at the comment and flicked his ear, pleased when it snapped against Lance and pulled an irritated “Hey!” from the kid. He was glad Lance couldn’t see his face or Lance’d get an eyeful of teeth with how hard he was grinning.

“I think it’d be pretty cool living out here,” Lance said after a moment, adjusting his position and brushing aside Keith’s mane to lean on the top of his head. “Imagine waking up to this every morning. Or just seeing it all the time during the day. That’d be something else.”

Keith could imagine it. There was a time he _did_ live in the forest with Shiro. When his lion was newer and developing and he had less control over it. He missed it, and he missed the castle. God, it’d been over a year since he’d last seen the castle. He missed his friends. He missed having a family.

But the desert gave him space. It was isolation town, just how he wanted it. How he needed it. He was free to be himself and just let his lion run wild. Shiro had enough to worry about—he didn’t need a young lion on a hot streak on top of it all.

Lance continued. “I joined the Garrison because I love space. I always loved looking at the stars with my brothers and sisters and trying to guess what’s out there. I really, really want to go up there and find out. But then I see things like this and I don’t feel like I’m in such a hurry. There’s so much to look at down here too.”

Probably for the best, too, Keith thought. Space wasn’t exactly free territory for exploration at the moment, especially with the Galra prying at the edge of the system. The Kerberos teams learned that the hard way, both times. The Garrison was too stupid to realize that.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just a sucker for adventure. Space would be the ultimate trip but I guess I can make my own fun while I’m here. This whole escapade because of the Galra jacking my buggy in the desert? Totally shitty, sure, but honestly? I couldn’t have asked for a crazier ride. Especially when my new buddy is a fucking werelion.”

Keith frowned at the word “werelion,” displeased with the crude implication of the word. His powers reached far beyond some fantasy. But the word “buddy” caught his attention. Lance had never referred to him as such before, and he’d never known the word beyond his relationship with Shiro.

He’d yet to take the time to mindfully reconsider his opinion of Lance. The kid had seemed annoying and cocky upon their first encounter in the desert and he’d left it at that ever since. Now as he thought about it, though, he wasn’t so certain. Sure, Lance could be full of himself, and he could be argumentative, and he managed to get under Keith’s skin frequently, but he’d also proven himself to be a useful companion. At times, even entertaining. Loneliness was not something Keith felt often, but when he’d left Lance behind in the town that one morning, suddenly the space around him felt too empty.

Lance had proven himself to be more than the bigshot ego streak he’d originally presented himself as. He’d faced his challenges headstrong, learned to mind his hands and manners, and stood up to the Galra for the sake of others. He was clever, respectful, and brave. No wonder Shiro took a liking to him so quickly.

Yeah, he was fine with the buddy label.

“Hey, Keith, you see that?” Lance suddenly spoke, his hand shooting out and pointing to something on the horizon. Keith followed his finger and squinted against the setting sun, his superior eyes easily zeroing in on what caught Lance’s attention.

A wing, sharp and dark in design, poked out from where it was tucked against a mountain peak. The thruster on the edge was dimmed from lack of use. They’d never have been able to see it from the ground.

That wing belonged to the carrier, and if Keith was right in his assumption, then the rest of the ship was hidden away out of sight beneath it.

Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so tired anymore. The carrier was just sitting there, clearly out of commission a few miles from the dead zone. It would be such an easy task—board the ship and hit the engines to blow the rest of the damn thing up. No more carrier and no risk of another ship coming to the carrier’s aid if there’s nothing left to go to. Maybe Lance could get his car back. Keith tilted his head back until he met Lance’s eyes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Lance asked nervously. This time Keith let him see his smile.

 

  
Keith voiced his intentions to Lance once they’d made it back to the ground. As expected, Lance immediately shot his idea down and began fervently disagreeing with his reasoning. It was a constant back-and-forth until Keith finally chipped away at Lance’s patience and the kid relented with a single condition: talk to Shiro about it first.

Alright, simple enough. He’d talk to Shiro.

They arrived back at camp with the last light of day to spare. Shiro was lounging on a fallen tree, back comfortingly pressed to an erect branch, his features lit in a soft orange from Lance’s phone as he conversed quietly to the recipients on the other side of the screen. There was a content smile on his face and he seemed entirely at ease speaking to Lance’s friends about his time as a pilot.

He must have been carefully choosing his stories if that was the case.

Shiro noticed the boys approaching and bid Lance’s friends goodbye before cutting the call. He hopped down from the log and handed Lance his phone back once they’d neared.

“Were you talking to them _all day?”_ Lance asked incredulously.

Shiro shrugged. “Not _all_ day. They took a good portion of my morning, though, and they called again about thirty minutes ago. I can tell they’re trying to trick me into telling them if I know anything about the Galra.”

“Sorry about that. They’re kind of obsessed,” Lance sighed as he pocketed the device.

“It’s okay. I like talking to them.”

Keith brushed his way past Lance so he was directly in front of Shiro, forcing the older man’s attention on him. “Shiro, we’ve got something to tell you.”

Shiro’s smile fell immediately and his brow creased with curious concern as he awaited elaboration. Judging by the way Lance quieted behind Keith, he was going to let him take the lead on this one.

“We found the Galra carrier,” Keith continued. “The one from the desert town. It’s sitting on a mountain some miles from the dead zone north of here.”

Shiro frowned and narrowed his eyes, already growing suspicious of Keith’s activities. He crossed his arms and said, “How did you find it?”

“We—”

“We just ran into it while we were out,” Keith cut Lance off quickly, knowing he’d be in for it if Shiro knew he’d been deliberately searching for the ship. “We were climbing trees and we spotted it on a mountain. I don’t think they know we’re here but the ship didn’t look like it was in flying condition anyway.”

Shiro was quiet for a long moment as he studied Keith, and Keith could feel the sharp scrutiny behind his dark eyes. Shiro eyed Lance for a second before returning his gaze, then dropping it to the ground in thought. His brow furrowed further and he pursed his lips and Keith knew he was considering possibilities and scenarios for what it could mean for them.

Shiro’s eyes met his again. “Did you get close to it?”

“No,” Keith shook his head, and he could be truthful there. Lance would have protested immensely if he’d tried to get anywhere near it. “We came back immediately to tell you.”

“Good,” Shiro dropped his arms and stepped around Keith, heading toward his tree. “Stay away from it.”

“Wait, Shiro,” Keith said after him and Shiro paused before turning around, his face unreadable. “I think this might be a good chance to take action.”

Shiro’s expression darkened instantly. “What did I just tell you yesterday?”

“Yeah, I know, but I did a number on the ship last time and it’s not even in flying condition. Destroying it would be a cake walk and then we wouldn’t have to worry about the dead zone being compromised.”

“Destroying the ship would only generate cause to investigate,” Shiro argued sharply. “They already know you’re running around somewhere, but _that_ would lead the Galra right on top of us.”

“Not if their comms are destroyed and they can’t ping a distress signal in time. It’s so _simple—_ force them into radio silence and then hit the main engine. It would take ten minutes tops—”

“You’re not thinking where it matters, Keith. Use your head instead of being so quick to throw yourself into danger.”

“Their weapons can’t even hurt me,” Keith snapped as frustration began trickling into his words. “It’s all heat-based ammo. I walked all over the Galra the last time I was aboard the carrier.”

Shiro’s eyes flashed and he stepped closer, his voice lowering as he towered over Keith. “Do _not_ underestimate their ability to hurt you. They’ve been conquering the universe for thousands of years—causing harm is what they’re best at.”

Keith held his piercing gaze. “The castle is in danger so long as you let the Galra hang around nearby—”

“I’m not arguing with you about this, Keith. I said to stay away from it and that’s all there is to it. Understood?”

“But—”

“ _Do you understand me?”_

Keith glared at Shiro, mouth pressed into a thin line to prevent himself from saying anything else. It wouldn’t matter anyway, he knew. He expected a reaction like this but he had been hoping for just a tiny deviation from the standard plan, even if the final decision would be the same. He was an idiot for thinking Shiro could be convinced otherwise—lay low, stay safe, and claws out only when it was absolutely necessary. No exceptions. Were they just gonna spend the rest of their days hiding like cornered animals?

Their home was in danger. They couldn’t just stand around and do nothing. He wouldn’t.

Keith didn’t give that thought any voice.

“Loud and clear,” he affirmed drily. Shiro would not budge and he was not a wall worth spending the time to break—it was easier to just find ways around him sometimes.

“Thank you,” Shiro said, his expression easing a little and his tone softening. He took a step back and allowed Keith some space. “I know what you’re thinking and I get it. I also hate not being able to do anything about them but we don’t have the means to fight them on our own. Not right now. The important thing is looking out for each other and making sure the castle stays hidden in the meantime. That’s our best shot at keeping this place safe.”

“Sure,” Keith muttered in reply, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew there was truth to Shiro’s words but they felt hollow from lack of initiative. He couldn’t bring himself to believe it was the only way.

Shiro drew close enough to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” he said with a small squeeze, and Keith nodded stiffly in turn, averting his eyes. “You’re not even wearing the belt I gave you—”

“I’ve been in and out of the lion all day, alright? I didn’t want it to break so I gave it to Lance,” Keith said curtly.

“Okay. I’ll let you be,” Shiro said after a moment. He patted Keith’s shoulder before retreating toward his tree again. “Lance, I’ll take the belt back so you don’t have to carry it around.”

Keith heard the jingling of the belt as Lance unfastened it from around his waist and handed it over with a mumbled “here you go.”

“And the scanner?”

Keith flinched at the knowingness in Shiro’s voice and he could see Lance do the same in his peripheral. Nervously, Lance reached into his pocket and pulled out the active scanner before tentatively placing it in Shiro’s waiting hand. Keith wasn’t watching them but he could see Shiro lean closer to Lance as he took the scanner.

“Keep an eye on him for me,” Shiro muttered to the kid under his breath, quiet enough that any normal human would have missed it. But Keith heard it just fine, and his temper spiked a little at his friend’s lack of faith in him. So fucking typical—and Shiro had the gall to ask why he didn’t want to stick around so much. His fingers clenched and his shoulders squared with tension, and he waited until long after Shiro had walked away before turning to face Lance.

Lance met his gaze. “That went well,” he muttered.

“I didn’t expect anything less. I’m just glad it’s over with.”

“So you’re going to drop it now, right? We’re going to leave the ship alone?”

Keith smirked at him. “I didn’t say that.”

“What?!” Lance’s eyes widened before narrowing. “You just got your ass chewed out for even bringing it up and you _still_ want to go through with it?”

“You told me to talk to Shiro about the ship. I talked to him.”

“And he said no!”

“Sure, but I still talked to him. That was our deal.”

Lance gaped at him, lost for words. He came closer, his voice lowering as he neared, and Keith appreciated the effort to keep their conversation away from Shiro’s trained ears. “I think it’d be smart to just do what Shiro says and let things run their course.”

“Listen, I don’t blame Shiro for wanting to play it safe, but something feels wrong about sitting around and waiting. I feel like we might miss an opportunity to lessen the strain on the castle.”

“Or maybe you’re just impatient,” Lance frowned.

Like he hadn’t heard _that_ a million times before. “Maybe I am,” Keith replied sourly. “Either way, I want to protect my home as much as he does. I just have my own ways of handling things.”

He broke away from Lance, padding through the brush and leaving Shiro’s camp behind as he headed into the trees, his eyes compensating for the dying light on the forest floor as he looked north. He heard Lance stumble to catch up.

A hand on his shoulder made him pause, but he didn’t flinch away from it. He twisted his head back and fixed Lance with a look. The kid didn’t glare back with anger or frustration in his eyes—he gazed at Keith with a creased brow, mouth tight with concern. He looked scared.

“Shiro said—” Lance began lowly.

“I know what Shiro said. I don’t care.”

Lance swallowed before glancing in the direction of Shiro’s camp. He turned back and muttered, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Look, Lance, I’m not asking for you to come. The ship’s already falling apart from last time and most of the crew was destroyed. I’d be able to take it on my own easily. Shiro doesn’t know what I can do now—my powers have only gotten stronger and I can handle myself.”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s worried about—”

“You’re right. He’s afraid they’ll ping a distress signal before I destroy it and bring the entire fleet here. He doesn’t think I can get to it in time.”

Lance frowned at him. “What if you can’t?”

“They won’t even know I’m there until I blow up the engines, and by then it’ll be too late. What about the Garrison buggy? That’s the whole reason you’re out here with me. It’s caused you so much trouble. Don’t you want to get it back?”

Lance shifted on his feet. “I mean, yeah, it’d be nice. I could go back to the Garrison then.”

“Then let me go after the ship. I can get the buggy out and blow the place up and we’ll both be happy. How about it?”

Lance was silent for a long moment as he contemplated Keith’s proposition. He chewed at his lip and stared at his feet, eyes periodically flicking north or back to Shiro’s camp. He looked nervous and tense and for a second Keith suspected he might go running back to Shiro to rat him out. Shiro was more than capable of physically preventing him from going and he did not want to deal with the argument that’d follow. He’d ask for forgiveness later but permission was already out the door.

And then Lance sighed. “I should go with you,” he mumbled, surprising Keith. “Just so you have someone watching your back, and . . . Shiro did tell me to keep an eye on you.”

Keith frowned at him, his eyes falling to the charred hole in his pants. It’d only been a couple days since the carrier encounter and Lance still had yet to heal from his previous injuries. “You sure you’re up to it? I don’t want you getting shot up by sentries again because you couldn’t keep pace.”

“As much as I enjoyed getting shot last time, you _did_ say you planned to stay out of sight up until the last moment. I think I can handle that. Not to mention I can provide cover from range,” Lance replied with his fingers picking at the strap of his rifle over his shoulder, drawing Keith’s attention to it. Keith eyed the weapon thoughtfully before returning his gaze to Lance, noting the determined look in his eyes. Keith grinned.

Alright, sharpshooter. Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't hate season 7 but it did leave me wanting to ignore a good deal of canon as opposed to season 6 which made me want to add several elements to this story that i didn't originally have planned. probably mostly because the story's wrapping up and arcs got closed but also likely due to questionable writing choices idk. anyway it was okay that's my consensus also action in the next chapter


	10. Fire in the Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i might have passed away for like five months or something due to school sapping all my energy and i was just kind of turned off this story for a while. i've actually had this chapter written before school even started but i was so displeased with how it came out i decided to take a break, and since tomorrow's voltron day i figured i'd revisit it before the last season dropped--which i won't be watching till monday anyway. honestly i'm glad i pushed it out of my mind for a bit because it allowed me to think about other things so i could come back refreshed. i still wrote quite a bit during the semester (not for this lol) and i was able to develop what i think is a better style of writing that's more pleasing to read and not so wordy (hopefully),. with luck that'll mean my word counts can be fewer which results in plot moving faster and i can move to the good stuff quicker. also writing in comic sans is surprisingly euphoric. i'm still behind on illustrations so i'll probably knock those out and catch up in the next month while i'm on break blah blah blah

The sun was completely tucked below the horizon by the time they made it to the edge of the dead zone.

It gave them the tactical advantage. They had the cover of night to mask their approach and Keith’s eyes could make out the environment just as easily as during the day. The only setback was Lance had to depend on Keith to guide him as they made their way across the valley that lead to the mountain, since Keith was forced to drop the lion out of caution, putting Lance back on foot. The moon was but a sliver in the night sky and offered the kid no aid—Keith took care to usher him quickly and safely along, a firm grip on his wrist to help him keep his footing in the dark and to ensure he kept pace.

Conversation was kept short and only applied when necessary, and mostly it was Keith offering Lance directions for his feet to avoid being tripped up by the terrain while they scaled the mountain. Keith’s ears were well-tuned and he trusted he’d hear anything long before it heard him, but he still felt paranoid that the Galra might detect them somehow if they spoke too much. Judging by Lance’s silence, he felt the same way.

It only took a couple of hours to reach the carrier but by then it felt like an eternity had passed. Keith began regretting bringing Lance along simply for time, and he worried that the kid would slow him down a little _too_ much. Shiro would be wondering where they’d gone off to soon enough and begin to suspect what they were up to, if he hadn’t already. If Shiro found them before they could pull off their plan, Keith knew the man would never let him out of his sight, and he’d never get another chance.

And Shiro _would_ find them.

So it was a relief when they finally got into position for reconnaissance.

“Half a dozen sentries posted along the perimeter. Two on patrol, four facing out,” Lance whispered from his spot next to Keith’s feet, lying prone with his rifle aimed down the cliff they were perched on.

Keith rolled his eyes. “I know. I can see them.”

“Well, that’s good, because I can barely see jack shit in this thing,” Lance growled as he adjusted his scope. “I don’t know why the Garrison can’t just issue me a standard rifle. I could really use some infrared right about now, but _no,_ I get the basics even though I’ve passed all my handling exams.”

“Stay focused,” Keith muttered with a tap of his foot against Lance’s arm. He paced along the cliff’s edge, studying the sentry patrol patterns and determining the best route. If there were only a handful of sentries guarding the ship outside, then that likely meant numbers were low inside. The carrier’s bay door was open, but a number of sentries stood guard just within the ramp, eliminating the hangar as a possible entrance.

Though, it didn’t matter much when the gaping holes in the ship’s hull were taken into consideration. Infiltrating should be easy enough.

“Taking out the sentries isn’t an option. I don’t know how organized the crew is like this but I don’t want to risk them trying to radio their patrols,” Keith said as his eyes scanned the sides of the carrier. There were plenty of choices for entry but they were all far off the ground and would require scaling the hull. “Looks like climbing’s the only way in.”

“Sentry patterns look linear. I haven’t noticed any changes from a simple revolution around the ship,” Lance provided as he squinted through his scope. “There’s a window of _maybe_ a couple minutes before the sentries rotate completely.”

That was useful. Keith nodded, impressed with the observation. “Good to know.”

They waited a few moments in silence to test Lance’s assumption of the patrol routes just to be safe. Keith saw no deviation and was satisfied with his odds.

“Alright, I’m going to go up. This won’t take long,” he said before backing away from the edge and heading toward the path that led down. He turned upon immediately hearing Lance scramble to his feet.

“Slow your roll, hotshot. I’m coming with, remember?”

“Lance, you can’t make that climb, let alone make it in a few minutes. You’re not coming in with me.”

“Hey, you have your reasons for being here and I have mine. Like it or not, we’re a team now, and we’re in this together. I’m coming with,” Lance said resolutely as he shouldered his rifle.

“Lance, you _cannot_ make that climb.”

“But you can.”

Keith scowled. “What do you want me to do, carry you?”

 

* * *

 

Keith was very tempted to just throw Lance off of him, but unfortunately that guaranteed detection once the sentries inevitably come across his body lying a hundred feet below him in the dirt. So instead he grit his teeth and bore it.

His claws scraped against the metal of the hull as he scrabbled for purchase, propelling himself upwards as fast as possible using whatever hold he could find, damaged or otherwise. It wasn’t easy with Lance hanging off of him, arms wound tightly around his neck and legs squeezing at his waist like a vice. It wasn’t so much Lance’s weight that inconvenienced him, because that part was hardly a burden, rather it was ensuring the idiot didn’t slip off.

And Lance had been so sure about the idea. Keith could feel how hard his heart was pounding against his back. Honestly, it would have been easier if the genius hadn’t _insisted_ on becoming a goddamn backpack.

Keith, after what felt like an eternity, pulled himself into an opening in the hull with seconds to spare as one of the sentries rounded the side of the ship. As high up as he was, he might have been safe anyway, but no reason risking it. He all but threw Lance off of him.

“I am never, _ever,_ listening to you again,” Keith seethed as he glared down at the boy sitting at his feet. Lance was rigid as a rock and trembling, his complexion paled as he stared blankly ahead.

“I probably won’t listen to myself either,” he mumbled, voice strained, before offering Keith a weak smile. “Thank you for not dropping me.”

Keith frowned. “Do you _not_ trust me to not drop you?”

“No, you’ve— I mean you haven’t dropped me yet, so it’s not that, but. Still. That wasn’t my favorite ride.”

“It was your idea.”

“And I hate myself for it.” Lance shakily rose to his feet before brushing himself off and taking a moment to settle down. He said, a little more strength to his voice, “Alright. Let’s hit it.”

The hole they were in was a mangled mess of machinery that lead to more mangled machinery, just as all the breaches in the hull likely were. It was dark and treacherous to traverse and only got more so they deeper they went. The walls were scorched and fluids leaked from broken pipes, exposed wires sparking from where they dangled. Keith sliced the bottom of his foot on a piece of erect shrapnel as they picked their way through a shattered wall.

They finally breached the hull entirely and found themselves in the fuel chambers.

“Wow, what a mess,” Lance noted, as if they hadn’t just finished making their way through a colossal mess. The room was completely destroyed, the ceiling having been blown out and holes in the floor where control consoles once were with ruptured wires in their place. What hadn’t been blasted into oblivion was embedded in the remaining walls or scattered across the floor in pieces. Glowing fluid—what didn’t burn up in the explosion—dripped lazily from the shattered fuel tanks in puddles.

Keith felt a tinge of smug pride as he gazed across the destruction, knowing he’d been the cause. The Galra weren’t going anywhere with no fuel. Soon there’d be nothing left entirely.

“First things first,” he said as he carefully picked his way across the debris-filled floor. “We hit the comms then take out the engines.”

“What about the buggy?” Lance asked from behind.

Keith sighed, having forgot about that part. “Alright, we’ll look for it before going for the engines but we destroy their comms first. So long as they can’t call for help we’ll have free reign if something goes wrong.” Lance agreed to that and Keith picked a door at random.

Finding the hub wasn’t easy. Neither one of them knew where they were going and had no sense of direction. Fortunately, the crew seemed to be steering clear of the wreckage in the lower levels of the ship and so their journey was relatively uninterrupted. What sentries they _did_ come across were well avoided, as Keith heard them coming long before they ran into them.

It took Keith far too long to realize they were going the wrong way. They ended up in the hangar.

_“Shit,”_ Keith swore under his breath as he gazed down at the hanger from the catwalk they stood on. Some sentries stood at attention across the floor, a few pairs of Galra soldiers pacing around and talking animatedly with electronics in their hands. Rows of sentries still stood at the open bay door on the opposite end, facing the night sky. True to his assumption, the hangar was relatively untouched if not for a few scorched sections. Some of the doors were blown out, revealing blackened hallways within.

He heard Lance sigh irritably next to him after a moment. “I don’t see it,” he said shortly, and Keith glanced at him. Lance was scanning the hangar with narrowed eyes, flicking back and forth as he tried locating the vehicle he’d claimed to have seen back in the desert.

“Maybe they moved it,” Keith offered with a shrug. It was a hollow hope but it was all he had to give.

Lance tore his gaze away from the hangar, a disappointed frown to his features. “Maybe,” he mumbled, but he didn’t sound convinced. Keith put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll look for it,” he promised, earning a surprised look. “Destroy the comms and the ship is ours, yeah?”

Lance’s brow creased as he considered Keith’s words. He nodded after a moment, a hint of a smile pulling at his features. “Sure.”

They fell back into their careful venture of the carrier’s halls and Lance’s mood lightened as he focused on their task. His eyes were surprisingly sharp when his mind was on track, and more than once did he alert Keith that they’d been down certain paths already. It was a good combination—while Keith kept an ear out for enemies, Lance kept his eyes on their surroundings.

But Keith’s patience evaporated as soon as they got turned around again. He beckoned Lance to halt and strained his ears, ignoring all things machine and searching for something living. Organic. Literally anything with a pulse. There couldn’t be many soldiers left but he knew there had to be at least a few.

And when he picked out a voice that didn’t sound mechanical, he took off running in that direction. Lance whisper-shouted after him but he ignored it, keeping low to the ground as he bounded near-silently across the metal flooring.

Keith rounded a corner and the voice grew louder. He calculated the distance and threw himself forward, slamming into a guard just as they reached the intersecting corridor before roughly shoving them against the wall, cutting off whatever they’d been relaying. His hand was on the guard’s mouth before the Galra had a chance to cry out and he pressed his arm against their throat threateningly.

“Scream and I’ll weld your lips together,” Keith snarled, flashing sharpened teeth before tightening his grip over the guard’s mouth. The Galra’s pupil-less eyes widened before they began struggling in an attempt to throw him off. They dwarfed Keith in size, but Keith was far stronger—he dragged the guard along the wall and forced them against a support beam, tucking them away out of sight of the rest of the hallway. The rattled guard seemed to get the idea and quivered in his hold.

“Keith!” he heard Lance hiss behind him. The kid came to a stumbling stop before pressing himself into the wall behind him, breathing hard. “Come on, man, don’t ditch me like that without warning me first. Scared the shit out of me.” He was silent for a moment as he caught his breath. “Who’s your friend?” he panted.

“Tour guide,” Keith answered. He grabbed the guard’s collar and shoved them to their knees, his hand still tightly clamped over their mouth. He released the uniform and ignited his hand before brandishing the flame in front of the guard’s terrified eyes.

“I’m going to ask you a question and you’re going to answer me truthfully and without shouting unless you want your skin melted off, got it?”

The guard nodded fervently with a desperate whine muffled by Keith’s fingers.

“Where’s the communications hub located on this ship?”

He slowly pulled his hand away, tensing to strike if the guard raised his voice.

The Galra took a heaping gulp of air before shakily answering, “All communications are handled on the bridge, or what’s left of it.”

That was a gratifying answer. Good to know his job was already a little bit easier because of his past efforts. “How would we get to the bridge?” he demanded.

“The central corridor’s the fastest route, but it’s caved in. There’s a service elevator but I think it was destroyed in the explosion—”

“Just fucking answer the question,” Keith snapped and the guard flinched.

“There’s a maintenance hall the repair drones use, relatively undamaged! The officers have been using it to access the bridge,” the guard said quickly, trembling beneath Keith’s burning gaze. “A few levels up. Once there, head for the bow.”

Keith exchanged quick glances with Lance before tangling his fingers into the guard’s collar once more. “That wasn’t so bad, _was it?”_ he snarled as he hauled the Galra to their feet and pinned them to the beam.

“Keith—” came Lance’s warning tone from behind him but Keith ignored it in favor of shoving his elbow into the Galra’s throat to quiet the whimpering soldier before drawing back his burning fist.

A hand on his arm made him pause.

“Keith, please.”

He turned his head until he met Lance’s eyes. Lance stubbornly held his gaze, a determined crease to his brow. “Don’t kill him,” he said with a slight shake of his head.

Keith frowned at him. “He’s going to die in the explosion anyway.” A series of fearful gurgling sounds emitted from the guard at the news and Keith shot the Galra a threatening glare when they began clawing at his arm.

“Just—just don’t,” Lance repeated, his hand still on Keith’s raised arm, eyes pleading with soft concern.

He knew Lance had a soft heart, but the kid still didn’t seem to understand the cruelty of the Galra. How many people they’ve hurt, how many lives they’ve ruined. How much destruction they’ve caused.

Keith relented anyway. “Fine,” he huffed before shaking the heat from his hand and cracking the guard’s head against the wall, releasing their unconscious form as they slumped to the floor. “But you should think about what the Galra have done before showing them mercy. They’re the scourge of the universe. He would have ended your life without a second thought.”

Lance was silent for a moment. “It freaks me out when you’re like that.”

Keith glanced back at him, startled by the tremor in his voice and even more so by the uncertainty in his eyes. It was a look that should be reserved for the Galra, not for him. He shrugged, “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t going to torture him. Usually the threat of burning does the trick.”

“I thought they shouldn’t be showed mercy.”

Keith narrowed his eyes. “I’m not like them—I’m not a monster. Killing’s one thing, but unlike them, I don’t find satisfaction in suffering.”

“Then you’re . . . what? A soldier fighting a war? Does that justify killing for you?”

Keith twisted around until he was facing Lance, nearly toe-to-toe with him. The other kid’s eyes widened slightly but he held his ground. Keith pursed his lips.

“I’m a lion, and they’re threatening what I care about. I’m protecting it.”

He brushed past Lance and marched down the corridor where the guard had come from without another word. He heard the other boy following behind, apparently having also chosen silence.

The bridge was a quick find after getting directions. A single sentry stood guard at the central console but was quickly dispatched by Keith. True to the soldier’s word, half of the room was tangled metal and wires.

“So . . . what are we destroying?” Lance asked as he gazed across the rows of lit panels placed around the remaining space.

“All of it,” Keith answered before releasing burning torrents from his hands across the terminals. The computers began melting from the heat and violently sparking as circuitry was destroyed. He saw Lance shrug before firing his rifle at a computer screen nearby, then again at another one.

Between the two of them, the bridge was a mess of ruined electronics in minutes. Keith gazed eagerly over their handiwork before raising his hand to catch Lance’s high-five. Lance grinned at him.

“Go time?”

“Oh yeah.”

The next thing on their list was finding the buggy.

“If they moved it, then it would be somewhere spacious. It’s too big to maneuver through most of the corridors,” Keith said over his shoulder as they hurried back down the maintenance hallway.

“That’d probably still be near the hangar, right?” Lance offered from behind.

“If I had to guess, then yeah. Hopefully.”

“We know the lower levels of the ship are out of the questio— _Shit!”_

Keith twisted around just as a sentry rounded the corner directly ahead of him. He caught the blaster as the sentry swung it at him and wrenched it out of its hands before spearing it straight through its chest, following up with a fist crashing through its visor. The sentry collapsed backwards and took him with it, his hand still stuck inside its helmet, and Keith flinched as a high-pitched _sching!_ sounded just over his shoulder.

He glanced over his shoulder to find Lance standing over him, rifle in hand and pointed down the hallway. Keith followed his aim in time to see a sentry careen onto its back some ways down, a steady trail of smoke rising from a hole in its head.

Lance gazed down at him neutrally, as if the interruption was hardly a hindrance to his train of thought. “So, like, I was thinking maybe the hold I was taken to last time? It was pretty big and could probably hold the buggy.”

Keith wrenched his hand from the sentry’s visor and stood up, shaking it to clear the shrapnel from his fingers. “That’s a good start.”

It turned out to be the perfect start. Finding the hangar again was easy and the hold was a straight shot from there. The room was still a wreck from when Keith went off, with damaged support beams, scorched walls, and dangling catwalks. Despite the wreckage, sitting clear as day among a series of civilian cars lifted from the desert town for whatever reason (no one was getting those back) was the orange insignia of the Galaxy Garrison.

_“Yeah,”_ Lance breathed eagerly behind Keith as they both stood in cover by the hold’s door. Keith felt Lance tap his shoulder excitedly. “You’re my hero, man.”

He ignored him. “Alright, here’s the drill. You’re going to fire that thing up and get the hell out of here. I’m going to hit the engines and be right behind you. Think you can handle that, sharpshooter?”

“Like a cakewalk,” Lance answered behind him. Keith started at the fist in his peripheral and he eyed it curiously before frowning at Lance, who grinned at him expectantly. Keith scoffed before a smirk tugged at his lips.

He bumped his fist to Lance’s before taking off in the opposite direction.

They were doing great on time. At this rate Shiro wouldn’t have a clue. Even sneaking Lance past the hangar personnel had been relatively painless—the boy had endured being dragged along by the collar of his jacket and being suddenly pressed into the shadows to avoid detection without complaint. He was aware of Keith’s vigilance and he didn’t question it, especially since he wasn’t too keen on being on the receiving end of a Galran’s gun again.

But the sentries were tough. It was easier without Lance but Keith still had to time his cover—darkness wouldn’t hide him from sentry scanners, but Shiro had told him a trick with the sentries: they had shit for peripheral. They were flawed with tunnel vision and had a habit of never looking up.

So, all Keith had to do was go up. A few jumps, and he was running freely on the catwalks, feet silent against the cold metal grating. He quickly slinked his way through the hangar and descended to the treacherous lower levels of the ship, using his nose to guide him to the lingering smell of burning fuel. He quietly disposed of every sentry he came across, knowing the number of enemies would be fewer in his return with each takedown.

He didn’t bother being stealthy when he was faced with three sentries performing maintenance on the fuel nodes. He blasted them to pieces with hardly a glance before studying the machinery before him: the nodes contained what little fuel remained in the ship—that of which sat ready in the engine lines that hadn’t been consumed in the first explosion. It was very little and wouldn’t even be enough for the carrier to break the lower atmosphere before stalling.

For Keith, though, it’d be plenty.

All he had to do was start a really big fire.

He exhaled deeply before raising his hands above his head on inhale. When his burning fists came crashing down onto the cracked flooring of the engine room, sending out a shockwave of fire that engulfed everything around him in a raging inferno, he was already a lion.

He heard the first fuel node pop behind him as he sprinted out of the room, marking the countdown for what was quickly about to become a catastrophic affair. Nothing slowed him down; not the doorways that were too small for his hulking body, not the corners that were too tight for his heaving momentum, not the few sentries unfortunate enough to be in his path of destruction. His heart was racing, blood pounding in his ears with the high of his success, absolutely giddy for what was about to happen. And he could feel the threat of death lingering at the edge of his eagerness.

He was immune to heat, but an explosion would tear him to pieces like anyone else.

The risk just made the rush more exhilarating.

He tore into the hangar like a beast gone mad, roaring with such ferocity the walls seemed to vibrate with his enthusiasm. Every Galra, machine or otherwise, snapped their attention to him and immediately opened fire.

Pointlessly. Their shots sizzled uselessly against his fur and Keith returned their hostility with hurtled balls of fire that exploded as they connected with their targets. The shouts of panicking soldiers filled the hangar only to be quickly drowned out by Keith’s answering roars. Sentries, lacking the programming to comprehend intimidation, stood their ground even as the crimson lion man bore down on them with ruthless intent.

Keith was so caught up in his frenzy he nearly missed the sound of an approaching vehicle. He whipped around in time to see the Garrison buggy burst out of a corridor onto the hangar floor, drifting sideways from a turn taken too tight and barreling into a pair of unlucky sentries, tires squealing as they fought for traction.

It drove straight for him and Keith winced away from the piercing headlights that threatened to blind him. He saw Lance in the driver’s seat as the vehicle zipped past, uncovered and unprotected, completely vulnerable to the weapons bearing down on them.

That kid should have been out of the ship by now.

“The visor’s busted!” Lance shouted at him as he jerked the wheel to the side and circled Keith in a tightly-controlled swivel. He fish-tailed upon completing the revolution and shot forward with a panicked, “I can’t retract it!”

Keith reached out and latched onto the buggy as it passed, using its acceleration to slingshot him onto the vehicle, causing only a brief swerve as Lance adjusted for the sudden shift in weight. Lasers _zinged!_ past them and Keith quickly climbed over the buggy’s cabin, using his body to shield Lance and the vital instruments on the dashboard from the blasts.

Lance twisted his head back to see Keith, who was positioned directly over him, before breaking out in a wicked grin with an exuberant _“Yeah!”_

The buggy raced for the hangar door, the mountainside giving way to an inviting night sky with stars dotting the black expanse beyond the sentries standing guard at the opening, rapidly drawing closer as Lance guided them to freedom with every violent swerve. They were in the clear.

Keith was not prepared for the ramp to suddenly begin retracting.

Neither was Lance, apparently, as the boy yelped and abruptly jerked the buggy in a different direction to avoid hitting the rising door, throwing Keith from his perch and sending him crashing to the floor until he slid into the ramp, his body knocking down a couple sentries in the way.

Keith shook his head to clear his disorientation and rose to his feet, crushing a sentry’s skull against the door with his fist as his eyes rapidly searched for what was controlling the ramp. The chaos had thinned considerably thanks to his efforts of clearing out enemies, and through the remaining blaster shots and the buggy speeding around to avoid them, he located their problem.

Standing at the opposite end of the hangar with a hand on a glowing panel, staring right back at him, was the ship’s captain. There was no mistaking him. The ugly aquatic features were clear even with the entire expanse of hangar between them.

Keith snarled threateningly, the ship shuddering as the hangar door finished settling into place in its frame behind him. They didn’t have time for this. The captain stepped away from the panel but Keith kept his eyes on it—that was his target, not the captain. But if interacting with the panel boiled down to tearing the bastard’s arm off, then that was just how it was.

_“Lion blood!”_ the captain screamed over the firefight; his voice was noticeably more ragged than before and Keith wondered just how severe his injuries from their last encounter were. “My ship is not a prize! If you’ve come back to sabotage it further _, you’ll die with it!”_

Keith answered the captain’s challenge with a vicious roar, drowning out the sounds of battle and alarms as his voice echoed off the walls and filled the vast room, deafening even to his own ears. The sentries paid him no mind and continued to fire at the buggy, but every living soldier trained their weapons on him with their attention now drawn.

“You doomed yourself coming back here!” the captain continued, white flashing as he bared his teeth. “None of us are leaving!”

He’d heard enough. Keith lunged forward as he fell into a dead run, low to the ground to earn as much speed as possible as he charged, claws digging into the metal and scraping with every propulsion of his powerful arms. The captain staggered forward, a gimp in his step, dragging something behind him before hauling it into his hands and pointing it at Keith.

It looked like some sort of weapon, like a cannon, gripped at the waist and aimed from the hip. Keith paid it no mind. He didn’t falter when the weapon sparked to life, or when it began humming with power as it charged. He tensed, coiling like a spring as he prepared to pounce and crush his foe.

An ear-shattering sound resounded and Keith was blinded by a flash of blue. All the air in his lungs expelled as something equivalent to a bus slammed into him and threw him off balance, sending him heavily to the floor with a painful crunch. He groaned as his skull pounded with his heartbeat, ears ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear the surrounding gunfight, and whatever hit him was making his muscles jerk and seize. He felt awfully heavy.

His vision was spotty when he opened his eyes but he could see the wild grin on the captain’s face ahead of him, yellow eyes wide with pleasant surprise as if he hadn’t been expecting the achieved result. Keith slowly pushed himself to his feet with a shuddering growl, startled at how fatigued he suddenly felt.

He rose to his full height and snarled down his nose at the captain, but the Galran only laughed before firing his weapon again. The blast knocked Keith off his feet and onto his back, and he could feel whatever hit him sink deep into his bones, weighing them down like anchors as weariness dulled his senses. He struggled to draw breath as he fought to sit up, clawing at the ground until he’d managed a kneeling position, limbs like lead. He could feel his hold on the lion slipping.

Squealing tires dragged his attention up in time to see the buggy whip around and speed straight for the captain, Lance’s features pinched with full intentions of running the bastard over.

Keith flinched at the deafening sound of the weapon firing and he watched with horror as blue light engulfed the vehicle before sizzling out along the shell, the headlights immediately going dead. Lance had tried to swerve to avoid the shot but the wheels locked up and sent the whole thing rolling, throwing him, unsecured in the driver’s seat, out of the cabin to crash into the floor with a pained gasp. The buggy barely missed him as it flipped past before rocking onto its side and stopping.

Keith’s entire focus was on Lance and he suddenly forgot about the captain, or the controls to the hangar door, or the imminent explosion breathing down their necks. He staggered in the direction of the writhing kid but another blast sent him to his knees. He managed to catch himself before he hit the floor but he realized he wasn’t going to stand up again as the rest of his strength drained from his body like an unattended spigot. The lion faded from his senses, retreating into his core and leaving him panting and trembling on the floor of the hangar, the effort of simply holding himself up too much. He collapsed the rest of the way with a strained wheeze.

A pair of boots entered his vision and Keith watched them sluggishly, too exhausted to react. He could see Lance pushing himself to a sitting position a short distance away, face tight in a grimace. His rifle lay nearby, a thin trail of smoke rising from the body.

“This is where it ends for both of us,” the captain muttered above him before dropping the dimmed cannon to the ground with a harsh clatter. Keith craned his neck to meet the Galran’s eyes, the act alone nearly too difficult for his tired body, but seeing the heat-seared scarring across the captain’s disgusting mug made it worth it despite his vision fading at the edges. The captain sneered down at him, beady eyes burning with hate.

“They wanted you alive, but with all the trouble you’ve caused me, I want the satisfaction of seeing to your death myself.”

The captain’s hand fiddled with his belt for a second before drawing a blaster. He raised it and Keith saw Lance freeze, eyes widening in terror, and he realized it was because the blaster was aimed at Lance.

“And at least _this_ one I can shoot.”

Keith reached out, hand shaking violently from exertion, but all he managed was weakly grabbing at the captain’s boot, who paid him no attention. He didn’t even have the strength to call out to Lance, only the dread in guessing that his fear-streaked expression would likely be the last thing he ever saw, and the knowledge that it was his fault this happened.

The cold metal of the floor greeted his face as his awareness faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's to whatever hell conclusion season 8 spits at us. like i'll be sad the show ended but it's a mercy killing at this point lol


End file.
